Crescent Moon: Mer De Noms
by Ringshadow
Summary: [Third in the Trilogy] Quite a while after their last adventure, the group has been gathered together again, with a new mission. However, as time progresses, it becomes obvious that the world is winding up for a new holy war.
1. Default Chapter

Crescent Moon: Mer De Noms

Section One: The Foreigners Arrive

            "Strangers abroad."

            Fox looked up. Fara was standing at one of the windows, looking out, ears perked forward. "Indeed. And noisy strangers." He stood, walking over to stand beside her. A trio of riders entered their clearing, pulling their foaming horses to a stop, one carrying a flag.

            "Noisy, high ranking strangers." Fara sighed and shook her head. "Do you want me to speak to them?"

            "I will." Fox kissed one of her hands, then left the room, easily walking across the wide branches and bridges of the Elven manor, then grabbing a vine.

            "McCloud! Sir McCloud!" Shouted the man in lead, looking up at the sprawling tree house.

            Fox dropped down silently behind the riders, folding his arms. "May I assist you kind sirs?"

            They startled and spun their steeds to face him, staring. He very calmly gazed back, assessing them. Fine clothing, but travel worn, as was the flag. The horses were gasping. These three had ridden hard.

            "Yes, we must speak to Sir McCloud immediately! It is a matter of great importance!" Said the one in lead.

            "Indeed, and what matter is so important that you must seek me out at my home?"

            They were well trained in etiquette, so somehow managed not to gape. "You are Sir Fox McCloud of King Phoenix's Army?" The one in lead finally asked.

            "Yes. Or I am Lord Fox Ivellios Siannodel. How may I assist you, kind sirs?"

            The trio dismounted, and Fox immediately stripped the horses of their saddles and bridles, exchanging long looks with the horses. The horses turned and trotted off, while their riders fairly gaped.

            "They are going to my grazing pasture. My steed will watch them. Do not worry." Fox said calmly, gesturing for them to follow as he approached one of the trees. The spiral staircase slowly uncurled, much like a cat's tail, then stilled so they could climb up.

            "What matter of magic is this?" Asked one of the trio as they followed him up the stairs.

            "It would take me a very long time to explain, kind sirs. In short, it is Elven magic. This house is only a year and a half old, now." He rubbed his hand over one of the wooden banisters absently as he walked. "But is safer then any castle you might stay in."

            They entered his commons room, and he gestured for them to sit, easily sinking into one of the comfortable chairs. "You are not of this kingdom, kind sirs. How did you know how to find me?"

            "Our presence bothers you?"

            He looked at them. "I am a husband and a ranger before I am a lord and knight. I enjoy my privacy, good sirs. This said, perhaps you could elaborate on this matter of urgency?"

            Fara smiled when she heard this, entering the room and also sitting. The trio, knowing who she was, started to stand and stammer out greetings. "No, sit and relax, good sirs. Introduce yourselves."

            "I am Mage Elgar Mathias, and these are my apprentices. We have heard of you, Sir McCloud, and we have a matter of great urgency that has been thrust upon us. We have traveled a great distance, kind sir."

            "And what is this matter pray tell?"

            "Have you ever heard of Nomenclature, Sir McCloud?" Asked one of the apprentices bluntly.

            Fox froze, mind going to work. "Yes, I have. I take it that you are in practice of said branch of magic?"

            The mage sighed and nodded. "Yes, I have been for many years. My two apprentices are learning it as well. As said we have come a great distance, actually from the Far East. There is a school there, on the far side of the desert and hidden among the mountains, which you may have heard of…"

            "Morningstar?" Suggested a low, growling voice that made the three guests shoot several feet in the air, sputtering, spells suddenly ready.

            Fox had known that Jordan had joined them, and held up a hand. "No need for alarm, friends." He walked over to the window and opened the shutters, showing the wrack dragon's eye and part of his face as well. "This is Jordan, he's a redeemed wood wrack dragon, and he's a friend."

            "Aye, so you can put your spells away now." Jordan said, blinking. "Was I right when I said Morningstar?"

            Elgar slowly sat back down, one hand on his chest. "Yes, yes you were. That is where we are from. I am in fact a professor of sorts, a teacher."

            "It's an honor, then, I have heard much about Morningstar." Fox said. "But what would cause a professor from Morningstar to come here and speak to me? I know that stories circulate about my friends and myself, is that what brought you?"

            He nodded. "Yes, yes it is. Sir McCloud, something has gone horribly, horribly wrong at Morningstar. Those of us who practice Nomenclature are… changing. My apprentices and I left three weeks ago, and we only arrived this quickly because we employed the service of the Lanterns."

            Lanterns—as in guiding Lanterns—were wizards or other magic users that specialized in teleportation, using their skills to move people and goods from one post to another. Most major cities had at least a few Lanterns, if not a station they worked from, though it was rare for any one Lantern to be in one place for any amount of time.

            "By all means, tell us your tale." Fara prompted, sitting beside her husband and handing the trio goblets of mild wine.

            Elgar nodded, accepting the goblet and taking a long drink. "The school knew the minute something changed of course. We are, essentially, an entire town of magic users of various schools and specializations. Morningstar is little more then a large, low-set castle in the mountains, protecting a small town within. We are still not clear on what changed, but our Divination specialists were the first to detect it. Then my fellow Nomenclature specialists started loosing their powers or acting very odd. None of the others could figure out what was going on, and it was in fact a young Necromancer that suggested we come to you for help."

            Fox sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You suspect someone is meddling in your affairs then."

            "No, Sir McCloud, I know someone or something is. The world of magic is suddenly changing, and that does not happen by itself."

            "How is it your young Necromancer had heard of us?"

            "The Necromancer was of the middle east, a young fellow by the name Anubis that recently came to Morningstar…" He saw Fox's look and smiled. "Yes, I too wondered when I heard his name. He is a black jackal, and I believe he is of Drow descent, though I am not certain. He simply said that his mother had a sense of humor, to quote him. And yes, I do believe he is of the Egyptian area."

            "Makes complete sense then." Said Jordan, startling one of the apprentices again. "Oh, sorry. You must get used to me, I'm afraid, I live quite nearby."

            There was a moment of silence.

            "What would you like me to do, then?" Fox tilted his head to one side. "Come and investigate? There are others better suited."

            "No, there are not, we are sure of that. We know of the acts you have done, Sir McCloud, and we honor you for that. We think that you are one of the few people who can help us."

            Fox stood and walked back over to the window, reaching out to scratch Jordan under the dragon's eye absently, digging his fingers into the soft boney substance that made up Jordan's skull-like face. "I have not been on a quest for over a year and a half, kind sirs, and I hardly travel alone."

            "We know. We were hoping you could bring your party together and at least discuss this matter. Even if you do not help us, we at least need your advice." Elgar's voice was pleading.

            He sighed. "I can't refuse to help you, Mage Elgar." He turned to face his guests. "I am a disciple of my god, and I feel I must help you."

            "What better things has a hero to do but save the world?" Jordan asked.

            "Quiet." Fox said, but he was smiling a bit. "We have guest quarters, friends. You are welcome to stay here. My wife and I shall put the message out, and with any luck, we will hold a meeting tomorrow."

            "We thank you." Elgar bowed. "We will be deeply in debt to you if you help us, Sir McCloud. I fear for my students and fellow instructors."

            "No, as said, I feel I must help you." He turned to Fara. "I will show our guests to places they can rest. Would you mind going to the casting room and starting things?"

            "Right away." She smiled, kissing him on the cheek and leaving the room.

            "I understand your party is somewhat large…" One of the apprentices attempted as they walked through the corridor, crossing a bridge to another tree, where many guest rooms were.

            "On our last quest, we numbered ten." Fox admitted. "But I am not sure if everyone will be able to travel with us this time. I would like to think so."

            "All right then…"

            The trio set their belongings down in respective rooms, Elgar turning to Fox. "You said 'casting room,' and I must admit I am curious."

            "Do you care to watch? My party decided to forego the usual means of communication a year ago, and I must admit, the process our magic users decided on is… somewhat interesting."

            "We'd be honored."

            Fox led them back to the tree they had started at, then to another room, this one octagonal in shape and obviously meant for much magic. Fara was currently sitting in front of a mirror that had ten glyphs carved around the edges of it, all of which were glowing very faintly, except for two, which glowed very brightly. She smiled when Fox came in, standing. "Everything's ready, but the word isn't out yet."

            "Well, let us put it out then." Fox smiled, standing beside her and working with her to cast the spell.

            The magic rushed over the three mages, strange in flavor and definitely arcane. As they watched, they noticed that both Fox and Fara were wearing silver rings with garnets set in, and when the spell resolved, the garnets started to intensely glow.

            "Contact made." Fox smiled, turning back to Elgar and his apprentices, holding up the hand with the glowing ring. "A somewhat modified version of Wolfpack Rings. Normal rings of the Wolf Pack simply allow a sense, so the wearers always know where the others are. These allow some actual communication."

            "And the mirror?" Asked one of the apprentices.

            Fox smiled again. "Watch."

            One by one, the glyphs brightened, then one flashed as a voice came from midair.

            "Been a while fearless leader! What's the occasion?" Alan's voice rang through the casting room, dragging with it some of the background noise from the endless carnival of the Blood Bayou. The glyph flashed with each word, then dulled back the original glow when Alan fell silent, though faintly sparking because of the background noise.

            Fara grinned. "Doing well, Alan?"

            "Oh, you know it, fair princess! So, why the contact?"

            "Wait until the others join us and we will explain in brief."

            "All right."

            Another voice cut the air, this one lower. "Fox, I haven't heard from you in a month or so! Before you ask, yes, the local Guild is stable now. How are you doing, living in isolation out there?"

            "Just fine Falco. We'll explain a minute, we're waiting for the others."

            "Fine by me." As with Alan's glyph, Falco's pulsed as he spoke then dimmed again.

            One by one, the other members of the party checked in, all with various comments, those waiting talking to each other absently. It only took about five minutes for the entire party to come together on the magical frequency.

            "To make a long story short, it is possible that another quest faces us now." Fox said, watching the glyphs brighten as a chorus of murmurs arose. "And it could very possibly take us great distances. Would it be possible for all of you to be here by, say, midday tomorrow?"

            More murmuring, then one by one everyone in the party agreed to those terms.

            "Do you object to people arriving early? The Jack is often grouchy early on in the day." Alan's voice said.

            "No, you are welcome to arrive tonight." Fox assured him. "And that goes for the rest of you as well. Thank you for your time, everyone."

            Various parting phrases were said, and all the glyphs dulled, the glowing of the rings disappearing as well.

            "That was… quite amazing, actually." Said Elgar. "You must let me in on how exactly that is done. That would be quite useful between the schools, and even just around Morningstar.."

            "You must discuss that with our party's mage and sorceress, I'm afraid." Fox said. "Though I myself know magic, this is beyond my level."

            "I could probably explain." Said Jordan's voice. "As I myself am a sorcerer."

            "Yes, true that." Fox glanced apologetically toward the dragon. "And you did contribute greatly to some of the local enchantments. I apologize."

            "No apology needed." Was the amiable reply. "And Alan is already here."

            "Alan?" Asked Elgar as the entire group changed locales, going to the front entrance of the Elven manor and watching as the bard leapt up the staircase.

            "Alan is a Bard of the Krewe of Mangroves, of the Blood Bayou." Said Fara. "Our party has an… understanding with the Jack of Tears, you might say. Alan traveled with us on the last quest and fought beside us during the war."

            "That I did!" The bard catapulted through the door and tackled Fox and Fara at the same time with a bear hug. The three foreigners winced when they heard bones pop. "So good to see you, fearless leader and beautiful duelist!"

            "Good to see you too Alan." Fox said with difficulty. "Now please, allow us to breathe."

            Alan laughed and let the two go, turning his gaze to the guests. "So these are the individuals that brought our new quest to us, as it were?"

            "Yes indeed." Fara said, going through introductions. The apprentices introduced themselves as Cade and Elijah, both smiling as they shook Alan's hand. It was hard not to smile when around Alan, once you got past his unusual exterior, which more added to the effect then anything.

            "Sir McCloud…" Elijah said, pointing.

            Fox looked down and saw his ring flashing. "Oh. I shall be right back." And with that, he sprinted out of the room.

            "What…" Elgar started.

            "Gate request. Fox has gone to confirm it. Which means our priestess Rita will be arriving shortly. She by far has the farthest to travel, so she normally just opens a gate to our Casting room. She could go through with it herself normally, but the Casting room is warded, so we have to allow the spell." Fara tossed a hand.

            "Ah."

            "Priestess? Of which god, may I ask?" Cade asked, crossing his arms.

            "Obad-Hai." Said Rita, joining them as Fox did, smiling, and introduced herself.

            The others to arrive that night were Julian, deciding since he was the closest he might as well arrive early, and Bill, who arrived via a Lantern member. Fox paid the travel fee and thanked Bill for coming. Bill of recent had been traveling from arena to arena, having fallen back into his life of a gladiator and enjoying it immensely.

            Morning broke crisply, and the air was quickly full of the scents of late spring. The mages were awoken by quiet knocks at their door, followed shortly by violin music as Alan passed by their doors, indirectly disturbing them on purpose. Morning meal was waiting in the dining room when they arrived, Jordan directing them to the proper room.

            "This is quite a residence, Sir McCloud." Cade remarked, accepting some bacon.

            "Call me Fox, and I'll admit that it is. I didn't always live like this, but I am slowly growing used to this house at least." He shrugged. "Peppy should arrive soon, and I doubt that Slippy will be far behind him. Katt and Falco will arrive together, and then that will be my entire party."

            "You know your fellow travelers well."

            "They are my friends as well as my party members." Fox smiled.

            Alan, having no chandelier to hang from, settled for sitting cross-legged on the table, holding his plate in his lap. A small kitten was huddled on his shoulder, watching the others and accepting small bits of bacon. "Aye, hence why we are so well networked. We keep the contacts running because we want to, instead of merely out of duty."

            "Why Alan, gain a familiar?" Rita smiled.

            "Yes, actually. This is Kaji. He doesn't like strangers all that much yet though." Even as Alan spoke, Kaji gave Rita a rather cross-eyed look. "But he's learning."

            "Always good." Said another voice, and Peppy smiled as he entered the room. "Morning, Fox. Your house was nice enough to let me in without an interrogation."

            "Interrogation?" Elgar looked at Fox.

            Fox kept a straight face. "It's happened once or twice. Amusing as it was I'm sure you don't want the explanation…" He shot Julian a look as the younger ranger threw back his head and laughed. "But in short, a pair of guards decided they wanted to speak to me, for no good reasons. My house didn't like that much."

            Those who understood either laughed or grinned. The mages processed this slowly.

            "Slippy was getting ready to leave when I did, so he should be here shortly." Said Peppy, picking up an apple and biting into it. "All excited as usual. I think he's been bored of recent, when he's not busy blowing up his father's blacksmith shop."

            "Any recent interesting inventions out of him?"

            "Last I heard he was working with firearms."

            "And he hasn't lost any fingers?" Bill lifted an eyebrow.

            "As much as things tend to explode around the poor fellow, I'm surprised about that as well, in a rather morbid way." Peppy admitted. Seeing the three mages look at him, he felt inclined to explain. "Slippy is our mage. His father is a blacksmith, and he himself is somewhat of a… tinkerer. A gadget master, he calls himself.  He's always playing with this new device, that new spell. Thus, many explosions."

            "And endless entertainment, according to Falco." Julian shook his head.

            "Sounds like it." Cade smiled.

            "All right, all of you. You can talk to me to my front now, as opposed to my back." Slippy came into the room, smiling and removing riding gloves as he spoke. "Though it's all true, every word. I myself am surprised I haven't destroyed my father's shop and the surrounding ones as well."

            Fox introduced Slippy to the mages absently, waving for Slippy to sit. "Good journey, Slippy?"

            "Yes, of course, though I do wish you would mark the trail to your house better…"

            "What trail?" Bill said.

            At the same time, Fox said, "It is vague for a good reason."

            "Yes, to keep guards from being interrogated by the house." Alan grinned, and laughter broke out among the party, leaving the mages sorely behind.

            "Falco and Katt aren't up yet." Slippy said. "I know they were up quite late last night. Oh, and we must do something about Falco being a null, he keeps almost hurting himself reading Katt's scrolls…"

            "Almost hurting himself? I'm surprised he hasn't fried himself. He knows better." Said Fara.

            "Yes, but I think it irks him that he's totally inept at magic." Slippy shrugged. "No skin off my nose that he is of course."

            "No skin off anyone's nose." Julian assured him.

            "I dare say they'll be here on time, though. Katt will force him to be." Seeing the mages try to figure out what was going on, he explained. "Falco is our thief, he runs the local Thieves' Guild in fact, and is supported by the King of Thieves himself. He's also our Dragon Kin, but unfortunately, besides the powers associated with his guardian force he's a complete and utter magical null. Totally unaware of it, which can be a bad thing in his line of work. Katt is our sorceress, she's helping run the Guild. Mostly doing contract work and such, since Falco only recently learned to decently read and write."

            "Diverse group you have." Elgar looked at Fox.

            "More strengths and less weaknesses in a diverse group. No matter what the situation, usually one of us is versed in it, though I will say there are one or two moments in our travels that left us a bit bewildered."

            "Spelunking. That was not the highlight of our last journey." Peppy winced.

            "We ended up having to journey into the UnderDark and confront some Drow, and they, needless to say, did not like us." Rita said to Elgar. "In fact they were planning on killing the greater majority of us. We barely got out of that predicament."

            "I think we've all been struck by an old Chinese curse. 'May we live in interesting times.' Of course, it is better then boredom." Said Alan.

            "True. But there are times when, honestly, I would rather die of old age." Said Peppy.

            "Oh, don't say that, you're meant to die in some glorious battle fighting for King and country!" Alan said, waving his arms around and almost hitting people in the process.

            "I'm a scholar, Alan. I dare say this will more then likely be my last quest, I am just getting too old for this."

            This brought all conversation to a halt.

            "We're honored that you are finding time to accompany us on this one, then." Fox said.

            Peppy grinned. "I told your grandfather I'd keep you alive, Fox, and I plan on doing so as long as I can, though every day I grow closer to expiring from old age."

            "Technically, everyone grows closer to dying from old age with each passing day. Besides, I doubt that you're passing on any time soon. You're going to be one of those spry fellows at the tavern watching the going-ons with a grin and reminiscing what it would be like to be ninety again." Said Slippy, and Peppy's laughter brought back the good mood of the group.

            It was just before midday meal that Falco and Katt arrived, climbing the staircase easily and going through introductions with the guests. Collecting provisions for a meal, Fox dolled out trays among those willing to carry food, and the group moved to the meeting room.

            The entire group loved Fox's home, but everyone was in the agreement that one of the best features was the meeting room Fox's grandfather had set up. It was a rather large room, and framed on one wall was an oversize version of Fox's enchanted map, which changed upon request. A wooden rack was installed below the map, holding a collection of books and scrolls that was slowly growing as time passed. A long wooden table stretched down the middle of the room, normally surrounded by ten chairs, but three more were brought in to account for their guests.

            The group automatically situated themselves, and Fox gave Elgar the nod to explain, tossing him a short, ornate staff that dripped magic when Elgar caught it.

            "I don't protest, but this is something else I am not familiar with." Elgar said in a voice that was starting to drip frustration. "How is it that I have been around all these years and when I come here I find all sorts of magic and artifacts that are new to me?"

            "Progress." Katt smiled. "The staff is basically a truthsayer's stick. Originally it wasn't really enchanted, basically we'd toss it up and down the table to whoever was the main speaker, but as people started to visit we found it nice to be able to regulate what they say. I don't suggest lying, because the stick would try to beat your head in. It's nothing against you of course; I doubt you'd lie to us."

            Cade and Elijah, who had already decided just to sit back and be entertained, muffled snickers.

            "And if you did, I doubt that you'd live through the experience, this group is not one to be trifled with." Said Jordan's voice from the nearest opened window, busily eavesdropping.

            "I like to think we are more hospitable and less brutal then that." Fox smiled. "Now that that's explained, if you would please, Elgar."

            Elgar cleared his throat and went through the same explanation he had given Fox, watching the party process the information, suddenly serious and all business. For a portion of this morning, he had wondered about the wisdom of coming here, and now he could see that these were the people that tales were told about.

            "Well, it's not the whole of magic being trifled with…" Slippy said when Elgar had sat, holding up a hand. Elgar got the idea and rather poorly tossed him the stick, but Slippy was used to bad tosses and caught it. "Because the whole world would know if that was the case, and I dare say we'd be swamped with requests from different sources to correct the matter."

            "Which basically means that someone has either targeted Morningstar itself, or the adepts of Nomenclature." Said Bill, catching the stick one handed automatically. "Are there many adepts like yourself in the world, Elgar?"

            Elgar shook his head. "No. Besides Morningstar, there is only one other school that teaches it, and it is also isolated."

            "Mezobarlin?" Jordan asked.

            "Yes, and we have not had contact with them in a while. They are rivals of sorts to us, sad is it is…"

            "So, if someone decided to take you and your fellow adepts out, he or she could do it in short order by targeting Morningstar and Mezobarlin." Stated Bill.

            "I suppose so. I've already established that someone is after us, I need to know why, kind sirs and madams."

            "Don't jump to conclusions Elgar." Fox said, voice almost stern, wrist snapping up to catch the stick. "And you haven't established anything really, you just suspected. We shall establish."

            "You've been locked up in that school for a while, haven't you?" Alan asked.

            "I'm afraid this is my first journey in a decade." Elgar admitted.

            "That would explain it…"

            "To continue…" Bill started, catching the stick again. "I will admit that I myself am a Gladiator, and have little understanding of magic, but I know of Nomenclature. The way I understand it, Nomenclature uses the power of names over objects, via the language of the divine. Perhaps one of the divine has grown sick of mortals using their power. Are all of your adepts good and holy, Elgar?"

            The mage spread his hands. "We are as susceptible to corruption as any other mortal, friend, though many of my fellows do not like to admit it."

            Silence for a moment, and Rita held up her hands, catching the stick with both. "I regret to say, but exact diagnosis of the problem and any sort of plan that would work is nearly impossible without going to the source of the problem. In other words, this party will have to travel to Morningstar."

            "And what of Mezobarlin?" Julian asked, grabbing the stick out of the air. "Even if they are a rival school, we should check on them as well."

            "If I recall what I have heard correctly, Morningstar is considered the 'good' or 'just' side of magic. Mezobarlin students are known for being somewhat sly and oftentimes evil, or at least not wholly good." Slippy said, freezing the stick in midair so it hovered above one of his hands. "I've met a few people from each school. Basically, the gods Baccob and Saint Cuthbert are commonly accepted at Morningstar, and the ones more commonly accepted at Mezobarlin are Vecna and Wee Jas."

            "Good or evil, they should be tended to, perhaps sooner then later." Alan protested, catching the stick and spinning it like a baton. "Neutrality and lawfulness is at least an improvement on evil dictating wizards."

            There was a long silent moment. Alan set the stick on the table and reached for a mug, and everyone else echoed the motion, also helping themselves to the food that had been made available.

            "So that means you will come to Morningstar and investigate at least?" Elgar asked, head spinning a bit from the rate of conversation.

            "Yes, we will." Said Fox after swallowing. "It will probably take a fortnight or a touch more to get fully arranged to travel though, as it has been over a year and a half since our last quest."

            "No, that is all right, I am just relieved that you are even willing to do it."

            "Of course." Said Fara. "Besides, I think we will all be glad to return to traveling. There is such a thing as being in one place too long."

            Fox called for a break in the meeting, and many stood and stretched, Peppy collaborating with Elgar to work with the map on the wall, studying their possible travel paths.

            "Thank you again for being willing to help us…" Elijah said to Fox, smiling. "I was a bit worried that this wouldn't be of big enough importance."

            "My friend, if this is not important, what is?" Fox wanted to know. "You have a problem that could affect us all, and we are more then glad to help."

            "All right, so it's exclusively those working in Nomenclature getting hit." Said Fara, leaning on the balcony railing and looking down at the clearing that spread below the house. Jordan had wrapped around the trees that formed the house, partly enclosing the clearing, but silver moonlight still poured in. Most of the party had retreated to the den, sitting around the fire and discussing matters. "And Nomenclature uses the divine language to control things using their true name. What would someone gain out of controlling them?"

            "A lot if it was done correctly." Fox sighed, shaking his head. "Do you sense an even bigger quest then our last two ahead of us?"

            "These things don't get smaller and easier." She pointed out.

            "True I suppose. What I am wondering is if it has to do with the disturbances rocking the divine courts for the last half-decade or so."

            "Do you think we're seeing the beginning of another divine war?" She glanced at him. "Has Heironeous told you anything?"

            "No, not yet, and I'm not sure if he's going to be willing to 'drop hints.' Another divine war has been looming for a while." He shrugged. Everyone remembered the fight between him and Titus when the opposing gods Hextor and Heironeous had possessed them, it only made sense to Fox that that hadn't been an ending but a beginning.

            "If I correctly recall my history lessons, wasn't the last major divine war the Titan's War?"

            "I believe so. Alan may be able to fill us in on some of the details there, that's fairly ancient history. Many more gods have joined the courts since then."

            "That's true. I suppose it would only make sense that this quest has elements of the divine. The last one did, but then you _are_ a disciple." She smiled.

            He grinned, pulling her close for a moment. "Yes indeed, but you've told me several times that it's not a bad thing…"

            "Very true." She nestled into him. "I heard you, Falco, and Peppy discussing travel plans, are we going to employ wagons again?"

            "After the trouble they caused last time? No." He shook his head. "We had something else in mind, but you'll hear all about that tomorrow, because that's when preparation starts."

            They were silent a moment.

            "Did you stop to consider the fact that our stories have apparently reached the Far East?" She asked, lifting an eyebrow.

            "No, not for a moment." He replied. "If they want to make me into a legend, so be it, but I'd rather put my energy into …other things." His smile turned sly. "Such as our marriage."

            "Did I sound like I was arguing? Because if I did, hell no I wasn't…"

            He laughed.


	2. Chapter Two: Preparations and Beginning

Section Two: Preparations and Beginning

            "So, traveling by horse is an almost definite no-go." Fox said, looking at the maps spread out across the table in the meeting room. In addition to the maps brought out of their rack, the map on the wall had been oriented and had highlighted all possible paths.

            "That's the way I see it." Said Peppy. "And judging by the fact that our guests themselves employed lanterns to get here, and it still took three weeks…"

            "Even if we all used aerial mounts, the travel time would be extensive." Said Bill. "By horse, it'll take over a year to get to Morningstar, flying… half as much if our mounts make it…"

            "So the Lanterns may be our only course of action then, since time seems to be of the essence." Said Katt, sipping a mug of tea.

            "Time is very much of the essence." Said Elgar. "Even the three weeks using the Lanterns is risky…"

            "Rita?" Fox said, looking up from the maps. "Could you open a gate there?"

            "No, sorry." She held up her hands. "It's far, far out of my range. Even out of the range of our friend Elgar, I imagine."

            "This is true." The mage admitted. "Since I am a Nomenclature adept, my gate spells are minor."

            "Great." Falco sighed.

            "Explain something to me, since I have never used a Lantern gate." Said Alan. "If you can employ a lantern to hop you from one country to the next, why did it still take you three weeks? Seems to me that it would take more like hours."

            "That's because many lanterns only have set areas they can teleport in, and there are some borders that, well…" Elgar grimaced.

            "For starters, the Morningstar council is a bit… close minded. No Lantern can get within three days of the school. Next, while a Lantern could get from this country to the neighboring country, the border after that is a cut border. We have to travel a great deal and do some minor cross-country hops, then we'll face another cut border." Said Elijah.

            "Since the Lanterns aren't accepted as standard in some areas, they're not allowed to jump across borders by regulations." Said Cade. "And no Lantern will break regulations, they're not that stupid."

            "Good then, we can teleport across the Albrecht's kingdom." Said Fara. "And I don't think we mind a little traveling. Three weeks is a very minor time to us, am I right?" She looked around, and got affirmatives back.

            "I imagine what also added to the travel time was the fact that you had to avoid raider country." Slippy interjected. Now out of his mage robes, the gadget master wore breeches, a tunic, and a leather vest, as well as one of his firearms in a leather holster. He had promised a demonstration later, per Bill's request. "With us along, you no longer have to avoid it."

            "That is true. Few raiders can match us." Said Julian. "So we'll be able to take a straight path."

            "So it's settled then?" Fox asked. "We'll be using the Lanterns to travel?"

            Everyone agreed with the plan, because it seemed about the only viable one. With Morningstar under attack by some unknown force, they weren't sure how much damage was being inflicted over time, so the best course of action was to arrive there as soon as possible.

            "Which raises another problem." Said Fara. "Lanterns charge a hefty price, and we are hardly one person. We are thirteen people, and all of us have our prospective mounts. I imagine just one hop will cost a small fortune, but multiple ones?" She spread her hands helplessly.

            "Elgar, what's the going rate on a person mounted to be moved?" Peppy asked.

            "Seventy-five gold."

            "Ouch." Said Falco, mind going to work. "Nine-hundred and seventy-five gold for one—ONE—teleport round. How many times did you have to teleport?"

            The three mages exchanged glances.

            "Ten to twelve, easily." Said Cade.

            "Which means, if the rate is flat… 9,750 to 11,700 gold, just for Lantern fees, and that's if nothing is lost in the process." Falco flopped back in his chair.

            There was a long silence.

            "So, fearless leader, just how rich are you pray tell?" Alan asked with somewhat poor humor.

            "Not that rich." Fox admitted. "Not nearly that rich."

            "And I can't go to my father and ask for a huge amount of gold." Said Fara. "This could be a problem…"

            "No, I think you can relax a bit." Elgar frowned. "If you can manage perhaps half of that, I am more then willing to make up the other half."

            There was an even longer silence.

            "I think that could be managed." Peppy said.

            "We shouldn't have too much problem with that." Fox agreed. "Peppy, later today could you go into town and discuss matters with the local Lanterns? Bill, could you accompany him, since you are familiar with them?" The pair nodded. "Thank you. I suppose this brings us to supplies and thus forth…"

            "Rather amazing isn't it?"

            Elgar started, looking over his shoulder, blinking as Alan joined him. "What do you mean?"

            "Them." Alan nodded back over his shoulder, leaning on the wooden railing beside the mage.

            "I see you don't include yourself." Elgar noted.

            "Oh, but I am not human, kind sir." He grinned. "No one who stays at the Blood Bayou for any amount of time stays human. Besides, we all know I am different. What I was referring to was the group's ability to organize."

            "Yes, I will agree that it's rather stunning, after watching all of the humor and thus forth. Really I was starting to wonder about the wisdom of coming here, but I must say I am quite, quite impressed."

            "I'm glad." He moved so he sat on the railing, swinging a foot. "Peppy and Bill have left, as have Falco, Katt, and Fara, to arrange supplies. Everyone else is pulling their part as well, I do believe that Fox is currently requesting some divine council."

            "And yet you do nothing."

            He smiled and spread his hands. "I do nothing because I need not do anything. I provide information when necessary and thus I am more useful here then anywhere else."

            "Did you say that McCloud is requesting divine council?"

            "Well, yes. You do know that Fox is a direct servant of Heironeous, correct?"

            "So the spreading legends say." Elgar rubbed his chin. "He is only the second Hallowed that I have met in my lifetime."

            "They're not all that common. Of course one need not be a Hallowed to speak to gods. Gods speak to me all the time."

            This earned him a strange look. "I am not sure whether or not to believe that, sir Bard."

            Alan laughed out loud and flipped back so he stood beside Elgar, turning to leave the balcony even as he landed. "Believe what you want, Elgar. Not even I can stop you from doing that." 

            "The Lanterns are willing to transport all of us." Bill reported. "Money up-front, of course, and the first jump will take us to the capital of the Albrecht's kingdom."

            "Tomorrow at midday is when we need to be at their depot." Said Peppy. "We're fully stocked, so traveling should not be any more of a problem then it has been in the past."

            "Heironeous chose not to comment on this quest, or at least for the time being." Fox said, pressing his fingertips together.

            "As did Obad-Hai, though he did give us his blessing." Said Rita.

            "We leave tomorrow morning, then?" Cade asked.

            "Yes indeed. I'm sorry, Jordan, but you can't come along on this one." Fox looked toward the window.

            "Oh, that is quite all right, I expected as such. Keep me in mind if you need some help from someone large, though."

            "Of course…" He trailed off, then sprang to his feet and leaned out the window after Jordan moved, ears perked forward.

            "What is it?" Elgar asked, newly bewildered.

            Then the others heard the howls.

            "Something has stirred up the local wolves." Fox said, turning to face his friends. "They seem quite agitated…"

            "How much so?" Falco asked.

            Fox held up a hand, and the sound of thundering hooves reached them as the entire group of horses came into the clearing below the house, Fox's unicorn constantly circling the group, pawing the ground. Fara's hippogriff landed moments later, also prowling.

            The group went to the windows, leaning out. It was just before nightfall now, and the wind was suddenly chill. Jordan disappeared, flowing into the forest to lie in wait.

            "Evil is starting to fill the air." Said Rita, eyes half closed. "What would dare attack this house, I don't know."

            Fox left the room, collecting his weapons then leaping off one of the bridges and swinging from branch to branch, finally landing on the ground beside his unicorn. Mage lights suddenly lit the clearing with an almost harsh glow, and he swung his bow around to a ready position, eyes narrowed.

            "Shouldn't we help him?" Elijah asked, building spells.

            "No. This is his forest." Said Fara. "And this clearing has been warded. If something is forcing its way through, he'll want to take care of it himself, the better to warn other dangers away."

            "All the same we should make ready." Said Julian, standing and leaving the room, the others following to collect their weaponry, fanning out on the bridges and balconies to watch what was going on.

            The howls cut the air again, and this time Fox knew they were close, the point reinforced when his mage lights started reflecting in multiple eyes. The pack, which was large, had surrounded the clearing.

            "I know you can understand me." Fox said heavily in beast tongue. "Leave this area immediately. This is my territory. Do you understand?"

            "Such a typical human." Sang a beautiful voice in Sylvian. "This land is owned by the forest, not by you."

            He oriented on it and aimed an arrow. "Show yourself. Now."

            "If you insist, human man…" The voice changed, almost seductive, and a slender figure emerged from the trees, a pair of wolves in attendance. She wasn't an elf, but was clearly of faerie descent, much like a dryad in appearance. Her skin and fur were dark, hair long and golden. She wore little, only a loincloth made from rough cloth, and her arms were currently crossed over her bare chest.

            "Dananshee." Fox said in a flat voice. "What do you want with my land? I have lived here for a time, and lived near here for years before that, and never did I disturb any of your race, let alone the wolves. The local packs and I actually get along quite well. So why stalk our steeds?"

            "You dabble in things that should be left alone, human man." She replied, gracefully walking forward so she was only a few feet away from the arrow, lifting an eyebrow almost lazily when he drew the string back farther. "Do you really think you could fire that?"

            "I know I could, for I know that your kind carries evil in them. Leave my land, Dananshee. I will keep your warning in mind. And be aware that I have a friend nearby who with a single swipe could kill your entire pack and you as well."

            "I know of your pet wrack dragon, he is of no concern to me." She shrugged, lifting an arm to brush a strand of hair back deliberately, almost surprised when Fox did not react. She quickly regained herself though, turning and walking away, the two wolves still escorting her.

            "Leave my land!" Fox shouted in beast speech. "NOW!"

            The wolves turned and bounded away, clearly moving to converge with their faerie leader. After a long moment, an achingly beautiful song reached the group, but before any of them could move to follow it, Alan sang to drown it out.

            Fox sighed, lowering his bow and rubbing his eyes. They had not even left yet, and already there were parties trying to stop them. This did not bode well.

            "I believe the term for this would be 'Bad Karma.'" Remarked Peppy dryly. "I did not understand all of what was said, but I believe that young lady just warned us off our looming quest."

            Fox leapt in the air, the mages stunned when he somehow made it up the four stories in a single bound, grabbing a branch and swinging back onto one of the bridges. He didn't offer an explanation on how he did such. "Yes, and that 'young lady' was actually a Dananshee, basically, an evil dryad. Nature is neutral but can tend toward good or evil. Dananshees tend toward evil." He stared off in the direction that the pack had left in. "And all of you should hope she has truly left. Fara, I think we should put up a shield for tonight."

            "All right." Fara left for the casting room.

            "Slippy, Rita? Would you assist us please?"

            The four doing the spell left, and the mages drifted after them, amazed at how these people worked together on spells. They felt the spell being cast, and looking out they could see the faint bubble of light around the house. Jordan materialized just inside the border, grumbling, poking the magical field with a splintery claw, making faint ripples of light go through the air.

            "It may be best to leave a shield against evil up for the time we are gone." Fara remarked. "I do not wish to come back to a ruined house." Hearing the ceiling creak, she sighed. "I have no doubt you can defend yourself, but taking precautions may be best." She told the ceiling, and the creaking ceased.

            "We should get some rest." Fox announced. "We leave shortly after sunrise."

            The others agreed to this, and split up to go to their respective rooms.

            Morning dawned cool and clear, beams of sunlight lazily trailing across the ground, dabbling through the leaves.

            Fox sighed, looking up at the sky, and went through his usual morning routine, his prayers to his god and respectful pleas to others—to Ehlonna and Obad-Hai, asking them to watch his land while he was gone and asking them to watch over his party while they traveled; to Fharlanghn, asking for a safe journey; and lastly to Pelor, to watch over himself and his friends. Only then did he leave the balcony, going back into his bedroom.

            Fara was already fully dressed and ready to leave, running a whetstone over the blade of her rapier. She looked up and smiled when she saw him. "It's been a while since I saw you in chain mail."

            During the last quest, Fox's armor had been ruined, and afterward he had decided to simply go with Elven chain, specially made for him, usually wearing it with his normal clothing. Compared to others in his party, it was very light armor, but he simply shrugged when they remarked on this.

            "True I suppose, but what reason do I have to wear it day to day?" He wanted to know, kissing her on the forehead and shrugging his quiver on absently, then his bow. "Are the others up?"

            "I heard Alan playing, so I would assume so." She tapped the mirror on the wall, and a diagram of the house came up, different color dots appearing to represent the different party members. "It would seem that everyone is congregating in the dining room."

            "You know, I love the meeting room, but half the time it seems unnecessary." He laughed, leaving the bedroom as she did. "But then, it would be time for morning meal…"

            The group looked up when the entered. Falco and Katt weren't there yet, but it was generally known that Falco was one of the last up, and even as Fox and Fara sat down the pair straggled in, Falco combing his fingers through his feathers to put them in order.

            The house had already arranged a hearty breakfast for the group, and the party dug in.

            "To the capital, then across the Albrecht's kingdom, correct?" Said Slippy, tinkering with one of his guns in between bites. This particular gun seemed to have two barrels, mounted one above the other, and a metal-reinforced wooden stock.

            "Not inside this house, Slippy. If you put a hole in one of these walls, I will take it out of your hide." Fox smiled sourly.

            "Right, right." Slippy returned the gun to the holster on his back.

            "And that is the plan for today." Fara said. "Which is more then fine with me…"

            "I take it this group has some past history with the Albrechts?" Elgar asked. "I have heard a bit about a joust, but…"

            "Prince Titus Albrecht is a follower of Hextor." Fox said flatly. "He has supposedly redeemed himself and follows Pelor again, but I doubt that to be true. Either way, he and I have a bad past history. He's tried to kill me more then once, though not since the wedding. His parents are kind, but I honestly wonder how long it will be until we hear that Titus has usurped the throne."

            Elgar raised an eyebrow. "Well, my goodness then."

            "Exactly why we are glad to be able to teleport across said kingdom." Said Falco. "I'm not very fond of him either, none of us are. And Jordan has repeatedly threatened to eat him."

            Outside the window, Jordan snickered, sending clouds of smoke into the air. The mages weren't sure if they were kidding or not.

            "I meant to ask, will the Guild keep itself going for the time you are gone?" Fox asked, looking at Falco.

            "I've got a veteran thief keeping an eye on it for me. I trust him, and he knows I've got friends in high places, so he won't betray me."

            "That's one less thing to go wrong while we are gone, then."

            "I have no doubt that havoc will be raised, but I'm sure it will be manageable havoc." Falco smiled.

            Fox rolled his eyes.

            Fara swung onto the back of her hippogriff, bareback as always. She had an aerial saddle, but never bothered. She was comfortable without it, and so was her hippogriff. She twisted, watching the others mount up, smiling as Fox trotted up on his unicorn.

            "What are you looking at so intently?" He wanted to know as his unicorn came to a halt beside her.

            "One of Heironeous' angels, descended to Earth to keep watch." She grinned.

            "That's blasphemy." He grinned back, looking over his shoulder, watching as his party fell in behind him, the mages uneasily also falling into formation. Taking that as a signal, Fox turned his eyes forward, and his steed sprang into motion.

            As the group reached the road, a bursts of crackles, branches breaking, reached them. Turning his head, Fox saw Jordan rear up in a shower of twigs, wings spread, and let out a roar as a goodbye, like a colossal wind rattling huge trees. Falco threw back his head and answered it, a brassy, ringing roar breaking free from his throat. Laughter broke out among the others when the mages and their mounts spooked, all looking at Falco as if he was an unholy incarnation.

            "You've been told I'm dragonkin." Falco said, exasperated. "What did you think it entailed? And yes, I have learned Draconic. It's not the easiest language in the world to speak, but it's come in handy more then once."

            "I think, Sir McCloud, that we have much to learn." Elijah called forward.

            "It does not matter how much you know, there is always much to learn." Fox replied over his shoulder as the group proceeded down the road.

            Alan toasted everyone with his flask. "Hear, hear, fearless leader!"

            "How old are you, good Bard?" Elgar asked, moving his horse to pace Alan's. Alan's stallion, having lived its life in the Blood Bayou, seemed rather odd somehow, but Elgar couldn't put his finger on it—at least until the stallion looked at him and grinned, showing a full compliment of sharp teeth. Elgar moved his horse a bit farther away.

            "I don't even know anymore." Alan replied cheerfully, shifting Kaji from his lap to one of his shoulders. "Does it matter?"

            "I have heard that those at the Blood Bayou live short lives."

            "Not all of us, good Mage. The Jack has been around since before the Titan's War, the same for my Lady the Demoiselle. The gods only know about the others in command. Short lives, long lives, who's to know? I cannot say how old I am; much less tell by what I remember, for I have trouble remembering yesterday!"

            Bill muffled laughter at this cheerful statement, accepting the flask when Alan offered it to him.

            Travel progressed uneventfully, those working in the fields ceasing their labors and running toward the road, shouting and waving. Those in the party acknowledged, obviously used to such. Fox, however, did little but nod or partly bow from his saddle to those calling to him.

            As they got closer to the city, they passed the field that was being used for training grounds for the City militia, and Slippy pulled his gelding to a halt.

            "Fox, wait up a moment." Slippy called forward, and was rewarded when Fox stopped his steed and turned to look at him. "I know we have to be at the capital soon, but I told Bill I'd give him a demonstration."

            "By all means." Fox replied, and let Slippy lead the group.

            Head Guard Jozan of the King's Own had some new recruits doing target practice in a field with bows and crossbows. He called a cease-fire when he saw Slippy trotting up. The two engaged in conversation for a moment, but it had resolved when the others arrived, shifting their horses to places they could best see. The trainees had also left their labors, curious of the going-ons.

            "He's willing to sacrifice a target for my usage." Slippy cheerfully said, dismounting and tossing his reins to Fox then flashing his hands in arcane signals. In response, a shield appeared behind said target, and Slippy positioned himself about fifteen feet away, loading the two-barreled of his three firearms. "Something I quickly decided on was that the lead pellets used by most firearms aren't all that effective. Metal balls, now..." He smiled grimly, holding up what seemed to be a small metal tube, sealed at both ends. "This is filled with small metal berrings. This firearm is only meant for close combat, but I'd be on the right side of it when it goes off. Cover your ears, the lot of you." And with that, he finished loading the firearm, braced the stock against one shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

            The small explosion that happened milliseconds afterward could be heard for miles, followed closely by the sound of a straw target being ripped to shreds, the metal balls coming to a stop at the magic shield Slippy had cast.

            "Oh my god." Jozan said, making a religious symbol. Several others followed.

            "Not hardly." Slippy smiled. "Merely science. I also have a large single-barrel firearm meant for distance, and I daresay that thanks to an enchanted lens, I could accurately hit targets from 1000 yards."

            Fox raised his eyebrows. "That might be useful."

            "Yes, even more so because few armor types can stand up to this kind of weapon, even plate." He holstered the gun. "The problem is that these weapons are… touchy. I have lost track of how many attempts it took to get this design right, of how many times I had them blow up, nearly taking out one of my eyes or my fingers. There is much to be said for magic shields." He sighed and shook his head, pulling out the smallest of the three guns. "Three-shot handgun, about the most temperamental of the trio, and also the weakest…" He lifted it and fired, the three bullets making a flawless triangle pattern on what was left of the straw target. "But the rounds have enough force to go through some plate armor."

            "No powder horn?" Asked one of the guards once he had lowered his hands from his ears.

            "None needed. The powder is in the rounds. Don't ask how many alchemy sets I've ruined. My father is still angry at me."

            "You are a genius, Slippy." Peppy had dismounted, holding out a hand and examining the hand gun once he had it. "What would be the chance we could all learn to use these?"

            "Slim to none, I'm afraid. There is still a high chance that it will backfire when used. The rounds are volatile and only stable through magic I sustain." Slippy took the handgun back. "We've all got our specialties, Peppy. I'd advise that you stay with arcane bows."

            Peppy laughed, swinging back into his saddle as Slippy did, watching as Slippy tossed a gold piece to Jozan to pay for the target and dismissed the shield spell. "Thank you so much for that tremendous vote of confidence."

            "You are very welcome." Slippy grinned, and looked to Fox. "Shall we continue?"

            The party returned to the road in relative silence, then Falco looked at Slippy. "How high of a chance of backfire?"

            "In my hands? 15% in optimum conditions. In yours or anyone else's? Probably about 75%."

            "Perhaps you aren't the coward I know you as."

            The party stopped again, the mages watching in bewilderment as Falco and his horse dodged the minor balls of fire that chased them.

            "It never is wise to insult a mage." Katt sighed, nulling the fireballs.

            "Nor is it wise to burn a guild leader." Falco muttered, falling back in with the group.

            "Quiet love, you've been beat."

            Fox rubbed his eyes. With a start like this, he didn't really want to contemplate the rest of the journey. Fara glanced at him, and he felt her amusement flutter through the back of his mind.

            _'Well, they are our friends, love, and we've known each other for years. Did you really expect the presence of newcomers to alter their behavior?'_

            Well, he had to admit that was true. He just hoped early signs wouldn't prove right.

            The citizens of the capital knew who Fox McCloud was, of course, and were aware of his entire party. What everyone there had come to realize was if Fox was traveling with his entire group, something of at least some importance was going on. So when Fox's party rode into town, with Fox leading in armor, the word spread through town, and soon they had a crowd of citizens pacing them, calling out questions. Fox told them little, and the rest of the party followed suit—yes, they were going on another quest, no, it did not concern this country.

            The Lantern who was teleporting them to the next depot was a gnome; he was sitting on the windowsill of the Lantern depot when the party arrived. He had heard them approaching from across the town, and lifted an eyebrow at Fox when he arrived. "Do you always create such a clamor when you travel?"

            "I try not to." Fox replied sourly. "I truly do. We are ready if you are."

            The gnome, a fellow named Jebeddo, nodded, hopping off the windowsill and waving the crowd back. He directed the party to stand their mounts in a circle around him, remapped the spell in his mind to accommodate for the many, many party members, and activated his specialty magic.

            The portal spell of the Lanterns moved smoothly as usual, and the party members looked around in surprise. They now stood in a fenced off area of a different town square, next to a different depot.

            "Just that simple, folks." Jebeddo managed a tired, tired smile, and staggered inside the depot.

            "If it's this easy, traveling could be a bit simpler then we thought." Falco remarked.

            "We can only take the Lantern magic to the border of this country, then we have to travel a good amount of distance until we can use the Lanterns again." Said Elgar.

            "We're trying to do something about that." Said a cheerful voice, and a slightly portly human man emerged from the depot, energetically shaking Fox's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I can take you as far as the border, as you've said, but I can take you no further, unfortunately."

            "So we've been told." Fox had to smile. "Shall we?"

            The human man nodded and stepped to the middle of the circle, repeating the spell that Jebeddo had only minutes ago preformed.

            Falco sighed, poking the fire and looking off toward the only dimly lit horizon. They weren't in desert terrain yet, but the air was starting to get hot and dry. By Fox's explaining, they were about halfway between home and where they had ended up in the East during their last quest.

            It felt strange, being away from his city after so long of being there. Let the King think what he wanted, it was Falco that ran the city itself, or at least behind the scenes. All the rogues and thieves in town knew his name, as well as most of the citizens. In the underworld, nothing went unless he said. And now, after spending all his time since the last quest to build his private empire up, he had left it.

            Which brought up another interesting point, that of Katt. She had been at his side since their first quest. He hadn't spent too much time wondering why she bothered, especially with a human ruffian like he was. Well, perhaps he should talk to her after this quest, he decided. He did care for her a lot…

            "Amazing. You've been quiet for an hour straight."

            _'Speak of the devil.' He smiled at Katt as she flopped down next to him. "Just considering what's ahead of us…"_

            "More sand." She shrugged. "Though I am not truly complaining. It feels good to be traveling again."

            "Does it bother you that we're doing someone else's dirty work?" He asked bluntly, stabbing the stick so hard into the fire it lit and broke.

            "You mean helping Morningstar even though it might not help us?" She tilted her head, looking at the fire. "A bit, but I've dismissed it. If we're meant to be heroes, then let us be heroes."

            "Aye!" Alan appeared between them and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. "Indeed, lady elf, I couldn't agree more!"

            Both were used to him, so they managed not to jump. "You haven't changed a bit since I first met you, do you know that?" Falco remarked, looking at Alan.

            The bard grinned. "Now why would I do a thing like that?"


	3. Chapter Three: Staring at the Sun

Section Three: Staring at the Sun

            Dawn broke, clear and warm, and Elgar found himself awoke by a soft tap on his lifted shoulder. Opening his eyes, he found Fox crouching next to him, fingertips pressed together. "Oh, good morning."

            "Indeed it is." Fox agreed, leaving the tent.

            The rest of the camp was awake and already going through what had once been routine, during their last quest. Breakfast was prepared, and Elgar's apprentices were assisting Fara and Peppy feed and water their prospective mounts.

            "We've got a fair bit of travel before we arrive at the next Lantern Depot." Peppy remarked over his shoulder toward the camp. "The local capital, in fact."

            "So it seems." Fox's map was floating in midair as he studied it, sharpening arrows while he did so. Elgar blinked, then shrugged, whatever worked. "Falco, are we going into raider country?"

            "Not yet." Falco stepped forward, swallowing a bite of sausage even as he spoke. "We mostly won't be for a while yet, but those that walk the Crimson Road, they're everywhere." He pointed at the map with his fork while he spoke. "And my Guild alliance won't help us any, because for one, my Guild is over a country away, and for another… I'm a thief, not Crimson Road. But I somehow doubt that any raider would be able to shake this party."

            "True, but I don't wish to kill or wound those who do not know that." Fox replied. "So it'll be just straight travel for the day, hmm? Hardly routine with us."

            "Travel doesn't go smooth with this party?" Elgar didn't disguise the alarm in his voice.

            "Even Alan's songs talk about the constant attacks, the stops to help people." Fox looked at him. "Our travels progress well, but are always interrupted."

            "I see…"

            "You worry too much, Elgar." Fara looked at him and smiled. "Don't worry, we will be at your school soon enough."

            He nodded silently.

            "It'll be about two more days travel, then we'll be teleported to the next country border, which is the edges of the desert." Said Julian, pacing Fox as the group moved. The road was well-worn and tended, winding through the fields and meadows. This area was clear, with few trees, the grass at most coming up to waist height.

            "Good then. Is any of the local wildlife violent?"

            "Not generally speaking, why?"

            Fox rattled his fingers on the pommel of his saddle. "Premonitions. Nothing to worry yourself about."

            "Right. When you get premonitions, they're true." Julian glared. "So what are they?"

            "The dananshee which spoke to us said something that bothers me. I think that whatever is doing this to Morningstar doesn't want to be trifled with, and I think any creature, any person who sides with our apparent enemy will try to stop us from arriving." Fox hefted out a sigh. "Which is why I'm glad this area is apparently safe from at least the larger forms of danger."

            "I can't say we'll be safe when we reach the desert. There are many dangerous creatures there, in spite of how harsh it is."

            He stared off into the distance. "Try to keep me informed. I would like to remain ready for anything that is going to come at us."

            It was shortly after they had paused for a midday meal that the sky began to darken and cloud. Fox kept an eye on the clouds as they broke their temporary camp and moved on, Fara launching back into the air on her hippogriff.

            It wasn't long before the rain started coming down, and cloak hoods were drawn up against it, or spells were cast to keep rain off. Fara's hippogriff, annoyed with the winds, landed and paced the horses along the muddy road.

            "There's a town a few miles ahead." Falco remarked to the rest of the party as they paused alongside the road, wet and miserable. "There might be an inn there where we can wait out the rain."

            "I don't like the idea of stopping because of a simple shower." Fox replied, shaking his head. "Wet and raining it may be, but we are hardly going to melt if wet."

            Even as he spoke, the wind worsened, and thunder clapped.

            "You were saying?" Falco asked sourly.

            "More bad karma." Peppy remarked as they carried wet gear inside the inn and dumped it on the wooden floor of the small lobby, pushing back the dripping hood of his cloak. "First we are warned away, now this."

            "I would not call a storm bad karma." Bill remarked.

            "I agree with Bill, because storms are rather common to this area in this season." Said Julian. "They come up fast and leave just as fast, more often then not."

            "After what happened at Fox's home, I suppose I can't help but wonder." Peppy shrugged.

            "I'm sure a few of us agree." Fox grumbled. Wet chain mail was about as uncomfortable as was mortally possible.

            "Either way, let's just get rooms for now and wait it out." Said Rita. "Priestess I may be, that doesn't allow me to change the weather."

            "Ah, why not?" Alan shook off, making people throw arms up as water flew out from him. He hadn't bothered with a cloak. "Then again, rain is a marvelous thing…"

            The inn's owner, who had been silently watching all of this, said, "To farmers, aye, but obviously not to travelers like yourselves."

            "How true that!" Alan bounced over to the desk where the inn's owner stood. "Though it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Have you twelve rooms available?"

            "What troubles you, love?"

            Fox was standing at the open window, watching the rain. The storm had lightened, but by his judgment, there wasn't much left in the way of daylight. "Just a feeling, that's all."

            Fara stepped over to him. "As Falco would say, you always have feelings."

            "Yes, and I am often right. It feels like there is great magic behind Elgar's plight, Fara. Great magic."

            "Good or evil?"

            "I'm not sure yet." He admitted. "We will have to see when we get there; in that, Rita is correct. We won't be sure until we can see the trouble at its source." He shook off. "How fares everyone else?"

            "At the tavern interconnected to this place for the most part, I believe. The last I saw, Falco had the whole town on its toes because of his Guild cape…"

            Fox laughed out loud. "Sounds like Falco. Let's make sure he doesn't cause any trouble, shall we?" He took one of her hands and kissed it lightly.

            She smiled. "Let's."

            "Blight wolves?" Julian tilted his head to one side, looking at the farmers he was talking to. "Are you certain?"

            "Yes, yes we are." The farmer rubbed his eyes. "They're on the move. Have been the past few months."

            "That could be a very, very bad thing." Bill looked at Rita, who stood nearby. "Aren't blight wolves creatures of the titan Mormo?"

            "Supposedly." She tapped her fingertips together thoughtfully. "But I am not surprised that they are on the move…"

            "They never were before, Priestess." Pointed out a younger farmer.

            "That does not stop them from doing so now." Fox walked over, hands clasped behind himself. "Good evening gentlemen."

            The farmers looked at him, saw the pendant of Heironeous displayed, and stood, offering their hands. "I take it you're the Knight Fox McCloud we've heard tales about?" Prompted the first farmer, smiling.

            "Yes indeed. Now, what is this about blight wolves?"

            "We haven't lost anyone yet." The farmer admitted. "Just some livestock. They don't seem interested in attacking us, which strikes me as a bit odd…"

            "Hmm." Fox glanced around, and his eyes fell on symbol of Madriel. "Very odd indeed, but I wouldn't scorn good blessings."

            "Oh, believe me, we do not."

            "The weather should be clear tomorrow, Fox." Julian remarked to him. "So we should make good time."

            "That's a good thing then. I for one do not wish to be rained out again."

            "Aw, what's wrong with rain?" Alan suddenly appeared, wrapping an arm around Fox's shoulders and leaning his drunken weight into his leader, ignoring the surprised looks of the farmers.

            "Everything when you happen to wear chain mail. Believe me."

            Peppy opened the shutters of his room and leaned out, taking a deep breath. After living in a large city, the air here smelled surprising clear by comparison, and beams of sunlight shone down, highlighting some of his fur, especially the silver that had started to come in.

            It was a rather depressing thought, really, that this might be his last quest, but he couldn't deny his increasing age. Typical age for death in the Phoenix kingdom was later sixties, and he was now in his mid-forties. Even now, the minor arthritis he seemed to have acquired somehow dug at him, and whenever he stood, his bones popped. For this adventure, he had brought partial plate instead of full plate armor, because he couldn't manage his knight's armor anymore—it was too heavy, too awkward with his now-restricted joints.

            Someday, he wouldn't even be able to pick up and wield his longsword…

            He shook away those thoughts as he stepped away from the window, combing his fingers through the fur of his scalp absently. Really, he had nothing to mourn over. He had had a good life, all in all, and now was considered a legend.

            So, why was he so dissatisfied?

            He huffed out a sigh, walking over to the door and opening it just as Fox had lifted a hand to knock on it. "Good morning."

            Fox wasn't surprised. Peppy always knew when someone was at the door. "Good morning. We'll be moving out soon."

            "All right, I'll be ready." Peppy nodded to him, and when Fox walked away, closed the door, retrieving his longsword and pulling it, weighing it absently.

            When Peppy had been young, he had been very strong, and in addition to his Knight's longsword he had also wielded a bastard sword, a very long, heavy blade which he now carried as part of his equipment, but rarely used in current years.

            "I admit to being mortal." He remarked to his sword absently, looking at the mirror-clean blade. "But aging is a grand, depressing thing." With that, he sheathed the sword, geared up, and left the room.

            "Well, this looks to be a glorious day indeed." Alan said cheerfully, eyes closed and face turned to the sun, arms spread. His horse stood nearby, chewing on a strip of beef jerky. No one seemed to notice.

            "It does indeed." Katt said, saddling her horse. "Will we reach our next Lantern station today?"

            "I'm not certain, it depends on how fast we travel." Bill had Fox's map and was studying it, frowning. "We were delayed so much yesterday that if we do reach the Lantern station, it'll be late evening. Actually, late morning tomorrow is a more probable arrival time."

            "Even if we arrived late tonight, the station would be closed, wouldn't it?" Slippy asked.

            "Yes indeed, so regardless, we'd be teleporting tomorrow." Bill rolled the map and passed it back to Fox.

            "Well, let's move out then." Fox swung astride his disguised unicorn easily, glancing at everyone to make sure they were ready. Everyone else swung astride their mounts, and Fara took to the air on her hippogriff as the party rode out.

            "Seems like there's rumors of rebellion to the Far East." Falco remarked, rejoining the party after conversion with some farmers that had come to their fences upon seeing the party. "Elgar, what do you know about this?"

            "Well, Morningstar isn't very involved because we're so removed, but it seems that the great majority of the commoners are greatly enraged at the local rulers, especially those that happen to be mages." Elgar winced. "Hence why Morningstar is trying so diligently to stay out of it, but the rebels don't cause much trouble with us because we're not in charge of anything but our own school."

            "Will it cause any trouble with our travels?" Fox asked.

            "It shouldn't. You're all foreigners, so what rebels there are should leave you alone, but I can't guarantee anything."

            "I suppose we'll have to see when we get there." Fox shook his head, and looked to Peppy. "This may sustain the theory that events and such are being put in our way to slow us or stop us."

            "Indeed it may." Peppy shook his head wearily, then paused, ears going up. "Does anyone else hear that?"

            The party instantly fanned out and went on alert, ears straining and looking around. Finally, the noise reached them, a bird's screech, but strange and abnormal.

            Fara, which had been listening to this via Fox, oriented her steed on the noise, squinted upward toward the sun as a shadow blocked it momentarily. Wings, four wings actually, a long neck…

            "Oh Pelor!" She shouted, and pressed her hippogriff into a sharp dive as the eight-foot-long Arrowhawk came right at her, still screeching.

            Below, the party scattered, shouting in surprise and pulling out bows, loading arrows and preparing spells.

            "Does anyone happen to speak Auran?" Alan asked as his horse reared, snapping sharp teeth at the Arrowhawk as it dove past them. "Not that it matters, Arrowhawks don't speak much."

            "I think you're missing the point. Why would a creature of the Plane of Air be here, for the sake of all that's holy?" Peppy asked, two glowing arrows lined up to his bow, squinting as he tried to get a good bead on the creature, which was using the brilliant sun to its advantage.

            Fara's hippogriff had spiraled above the creature, and she dove again, her hippogriff's beak and claws leading the way. The Arrowhawk heard and flexed its neck upward, snapping and hissing angrily as Fara's steed dodged and landed a hit on one of the four wings, dodging away and circling.

            Fox, who had three arrows drawn and lined up, fired the minute Fara's hippogriff was out of the line of fire, and the others with bows took this as a signal and also opened fire, those casting spells following close behind. About half of the attempts actually hit.

            "Anyone here ever rope cattle?" Bill asked, pulling a long length of rope. Having had little practice with distance weapons and being that he wasn't a magic user, he didn't want to be left out of the fight.

            "You're going to try to lasso that thing?" Falco asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Well, hell, that just may work."

            "Fara, bait it." Fox said aloud, using his connection to her to relay this. She caught on and directed her hippogriff to dance just in front of the Arrowhawk, dodging its lightning attacks, then dove away as the frustrated Auran creature dove at her.

            The thunder of the Arrowhawk's four wings nearly slammed the party members and their steeds to the ground as it dove right above them, and the creature had just lowered its head to snap at them when the rope came from seemingly nowhere and settled tight around the Arrowhawk's long neck.

            Bill had already braced his steed, but the impact rocked his horse forward as it whiplashed the Arrowhawk, several of the party members having to scramble to get out of the way as the creature's body swung around, tail lashing across the ground, knocking over a nearby fence in the process. Bill's horse dug in desperately, but was still being drug forward, the saddle straining to hold the rope that had been fastened to it.

            Alan's horse, which had been watching this, stepped forward and bit into the rope, then planted its feet with ease as the Arrowhawk bucked against the rope, only tightening the noose more in the process. As this happened, the rest of the party members simultaneously opened fire, and the Arrowhawk crumbled to the ground with a defeated squawk.

            The farmers that had been working in nearby fields had quickly retreated away when they saw the Arrowhawk first dive, but now they slowly came back, staring in shock at the huge avian creature that was sprawled across the road, and at Alan's horse, which had taken a seat on one of the beast's wings like a large dog, still holding the rope in its mouth, now grinning.

            Alan, who was standing nearby, took a swing out of his flask and toasted the farmers. "Sorry about the ruckus."

            "We're glad you got rid of that creature, actually." One of the farmers scratched his head, poking the Arrowhawk with his scythe. "Never seen the sort!"

            "None of us had either, I don't think." Said Katt, looking at Alan's horse, then looking at him and lifting an eyebrow.

            "And I suppose you'd still be normal after being touched by the blood of Kadum?" He grinned, patting his still-sitting horse on the shoulder.

            "Ah."

            The horse dropped the rope in favor of sticking its tongue out at Katt.

            "So what do we do with the body?" Asked one of the farmers.

            "I imagine it would taste wonderful with garlic." Alan said cheerfully, making Falco cover a laugh.

            The farmers prodded the oversized bird some more, but only Alan was close enough to see the creature's eyes fly open, but before he could shout any sort of warning, the creature reared up, free wings flapping desperately. Alan's horse didn't move from where it sat, almost seeming to laugh as the creature struggled helplessly, pinned to the ground, clearly mortally wounded from arrows and fireballs, just not dead yet. The farmers scattered back with shouts as the party pounded another shower of arrows into the creature, which finally fell, now truly dead.

            "Good grief. Our rotten luck, eh?" Falco glanced at Fox, who only shook his head.

            "So, just how smart is that thing you call a horse?" Cade asked, eyeing Alan's mount, directing his horse a little farther away when Alan's horse snapped at him.

            "Can't say. Smarter then most normal horses, but that doesn't say much. He can't talk, so not like I'd know." Alan shrugged, flipping an Arrowhawk feather through his fingers absently. Before the party he had moved on, he had taken the opportunity to grab several feathers—new quills, he had said.

            "To reiterate, what would a creature of the Plane of Air be doing here?" Slippy asked, letting his horse follow along with the party, scanning through a book absently.

            "Well, creatures of other planes do cross over occasionally." Said Katt. "But it's rather interesting that one just happens to be where we are, and a full adult at that…"

            "Nothing is coincidence with this party." Bill shook his head. "I've learned that."

            "Nothing is coincidence, period." Said Rita absently. "Everything happens for a reason."

            "What reason was there for James McCloud to die?" Peppy suddenly asked.

            Silence pounded across the party. Fox turned to look at Peppy, who was unreadable, then said very slowly. "I wonder that too, but I do not argue with the gods. Nor do I defy their will."

            For a long time after that, the party was silent.

            Night had just fallen when the party straggled into town, finding a stable and then an inn. The weather had been good, so besides the fight with the Arrowhawk there had been no delays and they had been able to move quickly.

            "We're going to be moving into desert again after this." Slippy remarked to everyone. "So be prepared for even more heat and dryness."

            "Wonderful." Falco grumbled, hauling his pack up the stairs and into one of the rooms, closing the door behind him as the others were quick to do the same.

"Get some rest, everyone." Fox remarked, leaning on a doorway as the others retreated. "Somehow, I think we're going to need it."


	4. Chapter Four: The Crimson Road

Section Four: The Crimson Road

The Lantern that agreed to teleport them was a young woman, and she seemed quite intrigued by the group. They said nothing to her about their mission, however, and only minutes after paying found themselves on a sand-swept road.

"Be careful." The Lantern warned before she left. "A Silk Road, this might be, but the Silk is Crimson." And with that, she was gone.

"Crimson? Crimson Road, I imagine?" Bill looked to Falco.

"I'd infer so." Falco nodded. "Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that we are in raider country."

Fox sighed, looking up at the sun absently. "I do not even care as long as they are smart enough to leave us be."

"As large a group and as well armed as we are, we must be ready." Falco insisted. "I've known members of the Crimson Road, and they are nothing if not cunning."

            "What do you think?"

            Cobra, the leader of the band, crouched at the top of a hill, watching through a spyglass as the party rode by in the distance. "Thirteen. Bad luck."

            "True, that, so why do they travel in that number?"

            "Maybe because they are strong enough to create their own good luck." He stood, collapsing the spyglass. "One of them is riding a hippogriff, three or four of them seem to be magic users, all of them look armed. This is not a party that most followers of the Crimson Road could walk away alive from." He shook his head. "Have Soft Rain follow them from a distance, and we will be even further away. Attempting a raid on this party will be very difficult, if possible at all."

            "From here on out it's just a lot of traveling and some cross-country hops. This is where all the time of the journey hits us." Said Elgar, holding Fox's map. "Hopefully it will not take as long as it took us, though, because we aren't dodging raider country now."

            "Presumably, we'll be able to cut off a few days." Said Julian, holding a more normal map. "But it really depends on other conditions as well."

            Peppy, who had been silent this time period, craned his neck back to look behind the group, frowning.

            "Peppy, you've been staring over your shoulder a lot lately." Fox remarked, lifting an eyebrow as he took a drink from a canteen. "Perhaps if we were in a forest, I would be more informed, but in deserts my senses are smothered. So, you sense something. What do you sense pray tell?"

            "Nothing." Peppy shrugged, turning back.

            "Right. Now tell the truth."

            The rest of the party turned to look at Peppy curiously.

            "Well to be honest, I got an itch on the back of my neck that says there's someone following us."

            "Near? Or far?" Falco snapped his head up from the map he was looking at.

            "Well, far, it's more of a feeling then anything."

            Fox rubbed his chin, staring off into the distance, but unable to feel anything. No, all that was here was hot and dust, or that was all his senses told him was there. Peppy had been in this country many times, and so had Julian. Best to rely on them, then.

            "Any way you can tell intent?"

            "No, not from this distance."

            "We keep moving." Fox decided. "Fara, go higher and try to keep a lookout. Tonight we ward the campsite."

            "They're smart, damn smart." Cobra shook his head after listening to the report from Soft Rain. "Now, what was this about a pendant?"

            "At one point I did get close enough to use my spyglass, and well… I think the leader was wearing a pendant of Heironeous."

            "We've got problems." Scarab shook his head, stabbing one of his huge, notched scimitars into the sand. "There is no way we'll be able to take this group, boss. No way."

            "They're perfect." Cobra laughed very softly. "Just the kind of people we need."

            The entire group looked at him. There were only eight of them, tired and worn, their desert steeds wearing battered tack, their weapons having also seen better days.

            "You didn't want to attempt a raid in the first place, did you, boss?" Asked Soft Rain.

            "No. Not hardly." Cobra swung into the saddle of his black Arabian. "They've set up camp, correct?"

            "Yes, but there seems to be spells cast on the site."

            "That won't be a problem. When I signal, approach the campsite, and don't come charging in like the devil himself is on your tails. I wouldn't want our new friends to be startled into panic fire." And with that he rode out.

            "We have company."

            Fox stood and walked over to where Falco stood. The group had camped off to the side of the road, and hadn't bothered running a cold camp. There was enough warding spells up that it would take a major sorcerer to break through. "Just one?" He hazarded.

            "Yes, and no one following him. Coming in slow and easy, too." Falco crossed his arms.

            "What do you think?"

            "Not sure yet."

            The party, having heard this, had weapons at hand, but were continuing their business, many having delved into Slippy's tomes for the evening while the others worked on evening meal or discussed further travels.

            The rider stopped just outside the circle of light, directly across from where Falco and Fox stood. "Evening." He called in the local language. "What language?"

            "Do you speak Common?" Fox inquired.

            "That I do." The rider switched languages, voice heavily accented. "May I approach?"

            "You may."

            Cobra grinned to himself and urged his horse forward into the circle of light, swinging out of the saddle even as his horse walked and leading his steed further forward. "Thank you kindly for your hospitality."

            "No, glad to put a face to a presence. Would you be the one who was following us a good part of this day?" Fox eyed his new guest. A desert cat in his late twenties, perhaps, with large sheaths containing a pair of scimitars at his sides.

            "One of my people, but don't worry, we have peaceful intent." Cobra held up his hands in treaty.

            "We'll see." Fox gestured, and let the visitor remove the tack from his horse and join the circle around the fire. "And who might you be?"

            "I might ask the same of you, you hardly seem like a local."

            "Fox McCloud, under several titles." Fox held out a hand.

            "Call me Cobra." He smiled. "So, who are your friends?"

            The party shared glances and stood as one, going through the gamut of names. Cobra took it all in stride, going through a rather complicated handshake with Falco.

            "I have some friends waiting, may I call them in?" He turned to Fox, tilting his head to one side absently.

            "Go ahead."

            Cobra bowed with a flourish, then pulled a horn and blew. The hollow, lilting tone echoed through the desert, then a return note echoed back. A few minutes later the rest of Cobra's group rode in easily, pulling their steeds to a halt just outside the fire and dismounting, nodding easily to the group.

            "Aren't you all followers of the Crimson Road?" Julian asked, watching the whole group of visitors with a somewhat leery expression. 

            "That we are." Cobra nodded. "But we have no argument with you folks, and I daresay that we would be rather stupid to even attempt a raid."

            Falco laughed. "True that, we are quite able to defend ourselves. Some members of this party have even taken on dragons and walked away alive."

            "If somewhat worse for wear." Bill said somewhat sourly.

            "Even so, being able to fight a dragon and live…" Scarab smiled, then clasped his hands and bowed to Fox's party. "I'm honored to be in such company."

            "How is it then that you all speak our language?" Fara asked, stepping over. A few members of Cobra's party lifted eyebrows, line of vision lifting up and down. She saw this and stepped closer to Fox.

            "Oh, well…" Cobra shifted. "A bit of a story, and one I hoped to share with you. I didn't come here to raid, oh no. I came here because we need help, kind sirs and ladies, and I thought you might be able to do so."

            Fox's party shared a glance, and Peppy wove an arm. "Share our fire, by all means. Tell us more."

            Cobra smiled and nodded.

            "Really, this whole thing started decades ago, before any of us were born.

            These territories are run by Sultans, much like your Kings, I imagine. And like Kings, the kingdoms are passed on from generation to generation, through one family. That's where the trouble came in.

            Seventy or so years ago, there was a rather large war across this country, and the Sultan made a deal with a demon to end it. The demon's blood now laces the family line, and while most of the royalty wasn't aware of its presence, some were bent by it, and every time one that was bent took the throne, the villages felt it. The local royal line is in trouble, it is whispered that murder plagues the palace, murder and lies. It did not become apparent until very recently, at least for some of us.

            Almost all of us here didn't start out where we are now. I myself was a Captain of the Guard, at the capital, in fact. The others? Many of my fellows were high-rank soldiers from good families, hence why we all know Common well enough to talk to you. Those of my fellows that weren't soldiers were apprentices and such forth, good standing all.

            The government tumbles into corruption. All of us have paid the price of it doing so. All of us here are legally dead, our names erased, and in some cases… Our families slaughtered. Don't act surprised, this has been happening locally for quite some time.

            I imagine some of you have been through this area before. Do not worry about the fact that you never noticed such treachery, foreigners never see it because the Sultan does not want it seen. He wants to maintain the trade routes, and thus, he attempts to keep those that are angry silent, and often, he does so with brutality you cannot imagine.

            And that is why I have come to you, to your party. My friends and I have been surviving as we can for over a year, and we fear we cannot take this much longer. Rage can poison, and we have choked on enough. We need help, and you seemed like more then likely candidates."

            Fox's party, which had been quietly listening to this, shared a long glance. Elgar felt himself grow resigned, it was becoming obvious to him that if there was some way his traveling companions could help people, they would, even if it did slow down their travels.

            "You do seem to have a rather critical problem on your hands." Katt said slowly, tapping her fingertips together. "But why come to us? What can we do?"

            Cobra spread his hands. "You can do more then we can, I imagine. We have the motivation, the rage, but we have spent over a year slowly starving in the desert. We are worn and we need direction. We were hoping you could help provide that direction, and either cure or replace our corrupt government."

            "But how can we do that?" Bill spread his hands. "We are but travelers."

            "I doubt that." Soft Rain suddenly said, looking at Fox over his laced hands. Soft Rain was one of the youngest of the group, the most shaken by his family's death, the most angry. "I have heard the name Fox McCloud before."

            Fox sighed. "Yes, I have completed some amazing tasks in my life, with the help of my friends. But I agree, I am not sure how we can help. We are hardly diplomats, or assassins."

            "Nor are we on terms with your Sultan. For all we know, we could be killed on spot for wanting to talk to him." Falco said.

            "You're Guild, friend, you figure it out. We need help. Are you willing to help us?" Cobra asked.

            There was a very long pause, then Fox stood and held out a hand to Cobra. "I think we have to."

            Cobra smiled and stood, taking Fox's hand and shaking it. "Thank you friend. Thank you."

            "That is one big city." Said Cade, looking through Julian's spyglass.

            "And a large palace. That one building must be a quarter of the city's bulk." Falco said, looking through his own spyglass absently. "Not to mention the whole place looks rather worn."

            "It is." Cobra said, crouching on his toes, looking down at the capital. "Tired, worn, and downtrodden, like we are. The Sultan does not seem to understand that his subjects are the soul of his cities."

            "What would it take to talk to him?" Katt asked, rubbing her chin, looking at the slowly rotating, magnified imagine that floated in front of her.

            "Royal papers, most likely." Said Blade frankly. "I used to be a guard in that palace, so I should know."

            "Royal papers." Bill repeated. "How so?"

            "Sultan only holds audience with diplomats, royalty themselves, and thus forth. Important traders, every now and then, entertainers even more rarely." Blade crouched beside his leader, tail waving. "He's handsome, dashing, and conceited as anything."

            "Well, that sounds like most princes I've known." Fara remarked. "Maybe it's typical for royalty. How old is this Sultan?"

            "He's still a young man, and the demon blood in him has already started to twist his mind." Said Cobra. "He does have his personal weaknesses, though."

            "Oh?"

            "Good wine and fine women." Said Soft Rain, voice bitter. "He thinks he can take any beautiful woman for himself, and does, quite often."

            "A drunken lady's man. You'd think life would be a bit more fun in this city." Alan huffed out a sigh, then saw the Crimson Road members look at him strange. "Oh, I am of the Blood Bayou, friends. You would have to meet the leaders of the Bayou to understand, I'm afraid."

            "The question is, can those flaws be worked to our advantage?" Slippy asked. "Trying to do so would be risky, very risky, more to some of us then others."

            "Rita, would curing the Sultan's family of the demon blood heal the members?" Fox asked, tapping his fingertips together.

            Rita, who had been in silent contemplation for quite some time, nodded very slowly. "Yes, but it is a long and hard ritual to perform, and I must be there in person to do so."

            "Of course." Falco shook his head. "Maybe it would be easier just to kill him."

            "That would just throw the country into war." Peppy shook his head. "Unless someone can immediately take the place of the Sultan who would be a vast improvement and who would be accepted by the people."

            There was a very long silence.

            "I say we ride into town for now, and try to pick up some information before we act. Falco, Alan, that will mostly be your department." Said Fox, swinging into his saddle. The others of his group followed suit.

            "We can't come with you." Said Cobra. "We're exiles, do remember."

            Slippy fished around in a belt pouch, leaned over in his saddle, and deposited a ring in Cobra's hand. "We'll be in touch." He assured Cobra with a smile, and with that, the party started down the hill.

            "This place seems sick, somehow." Rita remarked as they slowly rode down a main street. It was very busy, a marketplace. It was now midafternoon, and the streets were packed, the crowds slowly parting for the riders, recognizing them as foreigners. "Bright, intense, and energetic, yet tired, listless, uncaring."

            "I've noticed that too." Falco said, cuffing up the collar of his cape absently, watching the crowd with sharp eyes.

            "Let's find an inn for now, and work from there." Said Fox over his shoulder. "Julian, can you read this language?"

            "The townsfolk are restless." Said Bill, shaking an eating utensil at the surrounding throng, downing some of the local spicy food absently.

            "Everyone seems tense and worried." Rita shook her head. The party had stabled their horses and split up, walking the streets, picking up information.

            "Ho, boy." Julian remarked, looking up from his bowl as shouting echoed down the street. "Looks like Alan's in trouble."

            Still carrying their food, they worked their way down the street, and were less then surprised. One of the local street musicians seemed to be under arrest by Imperial guards, and Alan was between the guards and the musician, shouting in the local language as the guards shouted back. The street musician, who was in fact just a young boy, was cowering on the ground, clutching his flute to his chest absently.

            "What's going on?" Bill asked Julian, swallowing the last of his food.

            "Looks like the child was singing of the Emperor being anything but nice, which is of course treason, which is of course punishable by death. Alan didn't like that, apparently." Julian shook his head, tapping his ring and lifting his hand to his mouth. "Fox?"

            "Yes?" The voice emanated just inside his ear, carrying more background noise with it.

            "We have a problem."

            "I'll be right there."

            One of the guards made a grab for Alan, who sprang fifteen feet in the air, grabbing the child and effortlessly pulling him up, landing on the ledge of a roof effortlessly and setting the child down next to him with a smile. The guards shouted and shook fists, and Alan's sugar-voiced replies angered them even more.

            "Ho, boy." Falco said, looking up at this when he, Fox, and Fara arrived. "So, what's the punishment for this, pray tell?"

            "Oh he'll be beheaded, naturally." Julian rubbed his eyes. "Him, and that child."

            Fox reached up, sliding his circlet on absently, then snapped his fingers. Several of the watching crowd leapt and cried out when his clothes changed in a blink, from commoner to minor lord. Flexing his arms against the vest he wore, the stepped forward, settling a hand on his katana. "Is there a problem?" He asked simply.

            The guards spun and stepped back when they saw him, starting to reply in the local language. Fox wove Julian forward absently.

            "They're saying the boy committed treason, and that Alan prevented the arrest and apparently would be guilty of treason… if he was from his area." Julian told Fox absently. The guards got more energetic and loud in their comments, drawing a ripple from the crowd, and Julian grinned. "And they also think that Alan is insane."

            "Well, they certainly got that thought correct, didn't they Alan?" Fox looked up at his friend, resigned.

            "That they did, fearless leader!" Alan shouted happily.

            The guards saw this exchange, and their voices got even louder, stepping toward Fox.

            "Well, now they're blaming you because you obviously know Alan." Julian translated frankly. "And they'd like to throw you in jail as well."

            Fox held up a hand absently, drawing himself up. "Yes, that man is a friend of mine, but that is really none of your business." 

Julian translated, and the guards seemed unsettled, then replied.

"They want to know if you are royalty."

"Tell them that I am a Lord from west of here."

Julian did, and the guards took another step back uneasily.

"Come on down, Alan, and bring the child with you." Fox called up. "I do not think they would dare do anything."

Alan scooped up the young boy and leapt down easily, touching down effortlessly then setting the boy down. "Talented little servant of Olidammara, he is." Alan remarked, ruffling the boy's fur, drawing a timid smile from the boy. "Kind of like I used to be."

"We'll discuss this later." Fox turned back to the guards and made a general gesture of dismissal, and though unhappy, the guards went. "I would ask if that was necessary, Alan, but I know it is. I would have defended the child as well." He sighed and snapped his fingers again once the guards were gone, reverting to more normal clothing. "So, what's the boy's name?"

Alan crouched on his heels and spoke to the boy, then looked up. "He says people just call him Scrap. Looks like he's on the streets."

Fox rubbed his chin. "Alan, take him back to the inn, get him something to eat. And for the sake of all that is holy, try to stay out of trouble."

"You got it, fearless leader." Alan stood and held out a hand to the boy, who nodded and took it, and then the two disappeared into the crowd.

"Do you suppose this is more bad Karma?" Falco asked absently.

"I suppose that is Alan being Alan." Said Peppy, and Falco laughed.

"The palace is impossibly well guarded." Said Slippy, manipulating Fox's map. He had borrowed it from Fox for the day, and had somehow managed to get the general city and palace layout mapped. "There's no way we could sneak in really."

"And even if I managed to, there's little I could do while I was inside." Said Falco. "Unless we decide to kill the Sultan, in which case, I could take care of that rather quietly."

"That, my friend, is a last resort, and we are far from that." Said Fox, looking at the map of the palace. "And the gates?"

"Heavy duty. Nothing short of a battering ram… or Jordan, maybe… could get through them, and no, they don't have pickable locks."

"Any enchantments at all?"

"Basic alarm and guarding, but that seems to be it." Slippy said.

"Rita, any comments?"

"Whole place seems to bleed with illness. The demon's blood well coats that building, or at least, in a spiritual sense." She shook her head.

"Deliveries are made by the same people at the same times, when they're made at all, according to locals." Said Julian. "And unannounced visitors have to be royalty or better, basically."

"This place is a fortress. We're not going to be able to get in unknown." Said Fara, looking at the map. "It's just too well built."

A piping voice reached the others, and Alan reached down and sat Scrap on the table. Further discussion had revealed Scrap to only be ten years old, and very barely that.

Scrap poked the map and continued talking, Alan translating.

"He says there are ways in if you know how." Alan said. "There's apparently a servants entrance in back as well as hidden weak spots in the walls."

Scrap nodded eagerly, noisily swallowing a hunk of bread, then continued talking.

"He'd like to know why we want in so badly." Said Alan slowly, then replied, translating his reply. "I told him we want to help the people by helping the Sultan."

"True enough I suppose." Said Peppy, looking at the map. "But is sneaking in even necessary? Why not try just speaking to him?"

"That's something to try tomorrow, then. I'll see if I can hold a direct audience." Fox said, rubbing his chin absently. "But you all have to remember, I'm only a minor Lord, and barely even worthy of that title. It would be a small miracle if I was able to talk to him for any amount of time."

"Like miracles don't happen around this group." Falco rolled his eyes. "Do you want anyone to go with you?"

"Julian, would you mind?" Fox looked at his friend. "I'd like to believe the Sultan will be able to speak Common, but knowing our fabulous luck," he allowed sarcasm to drip into his voice, "there's a possibility he won't."

"Sure, if you really want me to."

"Thank you." Fox looked around at everyone else. "And if the rest of you could continue to try to gather information, I'd very much appreciate it. I'm still not certain of what to do."

Everyone nodded, and the gathering broke up.

"You would think of all groups that royalty would be on the most guard against corruption, but no, we seem to invite it." Fara sighed, leaning on the windowsill and looking down at the street.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely." Fox settled his chin on her shoulder from behind, pulling her back into his grasp. "Hate and greed only make it worse…"

"True I suppose." She leaned back into him with a sigh. "Be careful tomorrow, all right? If this Sultan would allow a small child to be beheaded, no matter what he sings, I fear your meeting may go a bit awry."

He laughed. "I'm well able to defend myself, love, but I'll be careful."

            "McCloud is trying for a direct audience?" Cobra repeated, contemplating the ring as he spoke. The mage Slippy's voice echoed in his ear, even though Slippy was somewhere in the city that still sprawled below them.

            "That's the current plan. The rest of us are still canvassing the area for information, of course, but the current idea is that we try to cure the local royal family. Unfortunately, this situation doesn't open itself to many good plans." Slippy replied. "And since Fox does carry the title Lord, he figured he would try to see, ahem, if his luck was dancing."

            "Well, that's progress of some sort, I suppose." Cobra huffed out a sigh.

            "Don't let it bother you, we said we'll help, and we will. It's just finding a way to. I'll talk to you again later." And with that, the ring stopped glowing.

            "Interesting spell, that is." Scarab remarked, rubbing his chin. "I take it that they haven't made much progress?"

            "Some, but it might be some time before we see any effects." Cobra admitted. "But I have no doubt that they will stay until they've at least improved the situation, if not solved it."

            "Desert cities. It seems that we always end up in such places." Katt remarked, looking around.

            "I know. At least this time we're fully supplied, unlike the last time we were unceremoniously dropped into a desert." Fara smiled sourly. The pair was strolling through the market, having not much better to do. Katt was only barely familiar with the language, and Fara was completely left out of the conversations around them.

            A shout rippled through the crowd, which started to hastily part. Fara and Katt glanced at each other and were also quick to step out of the way, leaning forward slightly to see what was going on.

            A rather handsome young man on a large black Arabian was riding down the cleared path, flaked by a pair of guards. He sat tall, and surveyed the market crowd with an odd look of veiled annoyance.

            "That would be the sultan, I'm betting." Fara shook her head. "No one but royalty could act like such."

            Katt smiled a bit.

            The Sultan drew his horse to a sudden halt, looking around, then Fara almost stepped back when she felt his gaze land on her. She made a mental note to buy clothing more typical of the area, because her sword-fighter's outfit made her stick out almost as bad as Alan typically did. The sultan only smiled though, riding forward and coming to a stop in front of her and Katt, bowing from the saddle.

            "I thought that I heard someone speaking in the language of the west." He said in well-accented Common, smiling down at them. Fara uncomfortably crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him. "What are two beautiful women like yourselves doing here, unescorted of all things?" He swung down from the saddle, tossing his reins to one of his guard escorts and taking a few steps forward, studying them.

            "We're with a larger party that has split up for now." Said Katt.

            "Ah, I see." He nodded easily, tilting his head to one side. "Are you a sorceress, dear lady?"

            "That I am." She said flatly.

            "Indeed. And you, fair one, you are a soldier?" He turned to Fara and lifted an eyebrow. "How crude, someone as stunning as you fighting instead of making the courts jealous of your beauty."

            "I prefer fighting to the courts." Fara replied, eyeing him, getting an odd sense of déjà vu. In an odd way, this young sultan seemed familiar, even if she had never met him.

            "Why is that?" He took a step closer. Fara took a step back in reflex, and he laughed. "I'm not going to bite, fair beauty."

            "It's not biting that worries me, Sultan."

            He laughed again, tilting his head the other way. "Oh, come now, am I that horrible to behold?" He held out his arms with a smile. "How would you like to live at my palace, instead of on the road as a simple traveler?" He stepped forward again, she started to step back again, but he reached out and caught her arm. "Life at a palace is much better then life as a simple soldier, I can promise you that."

            She pulled at his grasp, felt the unnatural strength there, and felt something like panic forming. "I regret to decline, but I am already married."

            His smile thinned. "That, fair one, is very easily remedied."

            "Enough." Katt broke in, voice sharp and acidic. "My liege, she obviously wants nothing to do with you, please let her go." She tightened her grip on her staff as she said that, eyes narrowing.

            "Silence." The sultan looked at Katt. "I was not speaking to you, and I advise that you do not threaten me with that stick you call a staff."

            _'Fox!' Fara's mental voice practically shrieked, and knew the impact hit him like a slap across the face. But he knew she was in trouble, and was on his way. "It is not necessary to be cruel with my friend, Sultan." Fara finally said. "And please, let me go. I have said I am already married, what more do I need to say?"_

            He just smiled, and something about it was thin and cruel. "I am accustomed to getting what I want, and I do not understand why you resist. I can get you anything, fair one, and you would live in my palace. Most women would die for such an offer."

            "Anything she wants, except the freedom she loves." Fox's voice blasted over the market, and the Sultan looked up, an expression of shock passing over his face as the bright-white unicorn charged through the crowd, plowing right by the Sultan's two guards and stopping, tossing sand up, eyes glowing. Fox easily dismounted, wearing his royalty-style clothing, arms crossed and gaze hostile. "And I suggest, Sultan, that you let her go. I have no fight with you but I will very shortly if you do not release her."

            "How is this your business, whoever you are?" The young Sultan demanded.

            Fox smiled grimly. "It is my business because she is my wife, Sultan."

            Fara twisted free and leapt to Fox's side, allowing herself to be held, quivering slightly.

            "Ah. I see." The Sultan stepped back, rubbing his chin. "And who might you be?"

            "Lord Ivellios Siannodel of the Elven Courts west to here, also known as Sir Fox McCloud, Knight and Battle Mage of King Phoenix's Army." Fox stood tall and defiant, eyes narrowed. "And the young lady I hold is Princess Fara Phoenix. We have no quarrel with you, Sultan, please do not create one."

            "Lord McCloud… ah. Did you request an audience with me for later today?" The Sultan crossed his arms. "Now is as good a time as ever." He swung back into the saddle of his Arabian, gesturing for Fox to follow. "And by all means, bring your wife." He remarked over his shoulder. "I wish to discuss that as well."

            Fara swung up behind Fox once he had swung back into the saddle, wrapping her arms around him. _'I don't like this, Fox.'_

            _'Neither do __I.__' He admitted. _'But what choice do we have?'__

            Katt watched them leave, oriented herself, and made time back to the hotel, activating her ring as she went so she could contact the others. This was definitely a development that may complicate matters…

            Fara cast a side-glance at Fox as the pair walked down a long, airy corridor to what was apparently a throne room. Fox had given up his reins to a stable boy, just his look enough to warn the boy to treat the unicorn with care, and now they were inside the palace itself, the heavy doors having closed with a frightening finality behind them.

            She still felt fear edging through her system, and she supposed in a way she was allowed. This young Sultan had apparently decided that she would be the next woman he would take, and just the thought of that made her stomach ill and unsettled. She knew Fox felt the same, but it wasn't fear influencing him, it was anger, which only made her worse.

            He reached over and caught her hand, laced his fingers through hers absently, surprising her. Married or no, he was usually reserved about demonstrating affection in public, holding it to be a very private matter, which she usually didn't mind. Now though he was troubled, and she understood the gesture.

            A huge set of doors boomed open in front of them as they approached them, and the young Sultan laughed, striding easily down the red carpet and taking a seat in the throne chair, gesturing for two other chairs to be brought to the dais also, making sure one was set closer to him. Fox rearranged the chairs when he got there, pulling the wayward chair closer to the other so Fara sat close to him.

            "Well, Lord McCloud. You requested an audience. About which would you like to speak?" The young sultan prompted easily, accepting a glass of chilled wine from a servant. The servant also held out the tray to Fox and Fara, they gracefully declined.

            "Several things, actually, but first I imagine you'd like to know why my friends and I are here in the first place." Fox pressed his fingertips together absently, regarding the young sultan.

            "That would be nice. Friends, you say, and not servants? Interesting."

            "Yes, friends. I have no servants, nor am I a practicing Lord. I carry the title, but I stay away from the courts." He shrugged. "No, it is my other profession that carries my honor. But regardless, we are here because we have some… pressing business to the east, a bit of a favor for a new friend, and we were going to be in this city only briefly, to seek the services of the Lanterns."

            "The Lanterns? Making use of magical travel, then? Smart of you." The sultan wove a finger. "And I imagine that you are not willing to speak to me of your 'pressing business.'"

            "I would rather not, or at least, of that particular business." Said Fox very carefully. "However, now some other …concerns have risen, and we feel something is very wrong in this city. I hoped to speak to you in that we might help heal the illness that hangs here."

            "Illness?" The sultan rocked back, blinking, then shook off. He was a desert cat, and his ears swiveled in bewilderment as he looked at Fox. "Are you talking a plague, perhaps, that I have not been informed of?"

            "No, not that sort of illness. This is, in the words of the priestess that travels with us, a spiritual illness, a strange, clinging wrongness. We cannot in good mind leave this city with it being in such a horrid state."

            "I was riding through market, and things seemed perfectly fine to me." Now annoyance and borderline anger came into the young sultan's voice. "Perfectly fine."

            "But things are not." Fox's voice became very, very soft. "Just because you cannot see such facts is not to say that such facts do not exist."

            "And just because you see such facts is not to say that they DO exist." The sultan snapped.

            Fox held up a hand. "I do not mean to anger you, I just wanted to approach you. And these facts are true. This is hardly my first journey, nor the first of any of my friends. When something like this screams at us, we listen. Sultan." He bit off the title on purpose, accenting it.

            "Who do you think you are, even if you are a Lord?" The young sultan spat.

            "I do not find who or what I am to be any of your business." Fox said in a cold, cold voice, tapping his fingers together. "I came to you with a problem in YOUR city, how do you intent to correct it? Do you intend to ignore it, to let your citizens rot as their souls fade?"

            The young sultan, in a fit of rage, threw the empty wine glass across the room. It shattered on the wall, a harsh, horrid noise, as he stood. "I could have you beheaded for such insolence, Lord McCloud."

            Fox stood very slowly, and replied, "Do you know what a Hallowed is, Sultan?"

            "Are you suggesting that you are one?" The Sultan laughed out loud and tossed a hand. "Ridiculous. This discussion is over. You go. She stays."

            In the next instant, the sultan was pinned to the wall beside his throne, Fox's Katana to his throat. The sultan gagged in surprise, feet off the ground, finding himself staring into eyes of the deepest, holiest gold, like lightning of the gods. Strange, for the last time he had glanced, this strange foreign lord had had blue eyes…

            Fox tightened the blade ever-so-slightly, lifting one eyebrow. Fara stood behind him, arms crossed and silently watching. It was, she mused, never wise to anger Fox. Such was hard to do, but once done, it was most prudent to get out of the way.

            "You are young, and inexperienced. Apparently any diplomacy lessons over the years did not sink in, either." Fox's voice came out low and strange, distorted by the power of his god. "Slander to my name I can take though it angers me, but the slightest suggestion that you would do _anything_ to the woman I love…" The blade tightened even more, and the sultan heard himself whimper. "No. I'm not going to kill you." Fox dumped him on the floor and sheathed the sword, eyes fading back to soft blue. "Because if I did that, you wouldn't be able to repent, now would you?" And with that he turned and walked away, taking Fara's hand as they walked side by side toward the huge doors. The guards standing there hadn't been able to bring themselves to react when Fox had pinned their ruler, and now meekly stepped away, knowing they were out of their league.

            "Do you really think, fool, that you'll live twelve hours before caught and beheaded?!" The sultan shouted, still on the floor.

            Fox looked over his shoulder, eyes flashing gold, making the sultan draw back with another whimper. "Twelve hours? I'll give you twenty-four to give up the demon blood in your veins, then I will be forced to take action." And with that, he was gone, leaving the young sultan to sit on the floor and gasp.

            "Oh my god, I wish I could have been there." Falco laughed out loud and rocked back in the chair he sat in at the inn, tossing his head back.

            "Entertaining as it may seem, that's a bit unlike you, Fox." Said Peppy quietly, tapping fingers on the rough-grained table.

            Fox didn't as much as blink. "That palace is drenched in evil. It grated on me, made it hard for me to even breathe." He shook off. "And the sultan made one simple mistake, and that, on top of the demon blood he stank of…"

            "Wait a moment." Fara held up a hand. "I'm the visionary here. Why didn't I sense any of this?"

            Fox's look was amused. "Maybe because of what I am, and your talent is notably hard to control."

            "Heironeous gave you a nudge." She stated, smiling a touch.

            "Surprisingly yes. Corrupted rulers… ah, one of his most vibrant hates. And then he decides to attempt to take you? There is only so much one man can take." He sighed and sat back. "But I fear I may have made our presence here much, much harder."

            "More then likely, but I doubt it's anything we can't handle." Slippy said, tinkering with his three-shot handgun.

            "A few guards aren't a problem, but an entire city?" Falco spread his hands and shook his head. "Even I argue that."

            "I've got a question." Alan said, sitting on the table, Kaji sitting on his head. "If you have such a problem with evil rulers, why hasn't the Jack got that treatment yet?"

            "Well, for one thing, that wouldn't be the smartest thing to do." Fox said dryly, and Alan laughed heartily, knowing it to be true. "For the other thing, Heironeous really has no fight with the Jack of Tears, for whatever strange reason, and neither do I. No, I'd call the Jack my friend, if I was to be daring." He shrugged. "Returning to the task at hand, now what, since I seem to have made such a marvelous mess of the situation."

            "Don't put yourself down, I imagine the rest of us would have had no better luck." Said Rita. "Do you think that curing the royal line is still a viable option?"

            "I'm not sure. I think we'd have to kidnap him to make him agree to it." Said Fara, sparking a few tired smiles. "But by the same token, we can't just kill him, that'd cause more trouble then it would cure."

            There was a pause, then Julian looked up. "I have an idea."

            "If we're caught…" Cobra hissed as his group slipped into the hotel, the inn keeper ushering them in and closing the door as the last dark, cloaked form slipped through the crack.

            "Don't worry, in this our friend here is on our side." Bill smiled, sending it toward the inn keeper. They had discussed what was happening, and the heavily-taxed inn keeper had happily agreed to help their missions, no matter how treacherous.

            "And god only knows how many of the guards and militia are as well." Said Julian, falling in step as they went into the empty, mostly dark tavern.

            On the far wall, a fire burned, and Fox's group had taken various poses of waiting around the room. Alan had gone so far as to perch on the mantle of the fireplace, looking like some huge misshapen crow, and one with four eyes, no less, as Kaji was still sitting on his head.

            "A very boxy, poxy city, this is." Alan said into the silence, making Cobra's group look at him strange.

            "I'm not going to ask what that means." Soft Rain decided as the group pulled up chairs around the fire, joining Fox's group.

            "That's generally a plan of action when it comes to Alan." Peppy had to smile.

            "So why did you call us here?" Cobra prompted. "We are exiles, how can we help you?"

            "I've made a horrid mess of everything, and we're out of ideas." Fox bowed is head. "Of course, the Sultan had it coming to him, as Falco would say, but I fear I may have botched any plan that could be laid out."

            "What happened?"

            Katt, Fara, and Fox took turns explaining the events, and Cobra's party silently listened, looking a touch surprised when Fox explained in terse words that yes, he was a Hallowed. They didn't press the issue, though.

            "I don't think I blame you for reacting such." Soft Rain said, voice low in an attempt to disguise anger that still shone through. "I have some personal experience with that end of the Sultan's tastes…"

            Peppy broke the silence. "Not a wife…?"

            "No. My sister."

            "Pelor!" Fara shivered.

            "Well, someone has to stop this, anyone have any ideas on how?" Bill asked in a drawling voice. "It's pretty obvious that the Sultan isn't going to negotiate with us, he wants us all dead, for Kord's sake…"

            "I have an idea."

            Everyone looked at Alan, still perched like a misshapen raven on the mantle.

            "It's a bit underhanded though, I doubt our fearless leader will approve." He hastily added, shifting a bit.

            "I don't think any of us have any decent ideas right now." Said Peppy. "So, explain."

            "You're crazy. And I am crazy for going along with this." Falco growled, lifting himself onto the outer wall of the palace and holding down a hand for Alan, who took it.

            "Now now, Guild thief." Alan shook a finger back and forth, his misshapen visage covered mostly by a cloak. "You've known that I am insane for quite some time. That said, who is the more foolish, the fool," He gestured at himself, "Or the fool that follows him?" He let that hang.

            "Bah." Falco snorted, moving quickly along the top of the wall then leaping to a roof, tucking and rolling as he saw a pair of guards. Miraculously they remained unnoticed as they rapidly crept up the incline, eyeing windows.

            "That one, I bet, with the large balcony." Alan pointed.

            "You got it." Falco said, twirling one of his grappling hooks above his head then throwing. It latched on instantly and silently, the metal having been padded by Slippy. He swung over first, clambered up, then Alan caught the rope when Falco swung it back to him, easily flying up the rope and over the railing to crouch beside Falco.

            "It seems our luck goes well tonight." Falco remarked under his breath, brushing the unlocked door open.

            "Not quite, I guessed wrong. This is a lady's quarters, by my judging." Alan said, glancing around.

            "Well, look at it this way, that means the Sultan's probably close by."

            Alan snickered as they moved forward, at first cautious, then just walking. The quarters seemed vacant.

            "Hee hee hee, does this mask seem familiar?" Alan suddenly said, picking up a mask and holding it up to his face. "The Jack has something much like it…"

            "Quit dawdling, bard, we've got things to do." Falco hissed, then dove when the door opened, sliding across the marble to come to a stop behind a large pot, crouching.

            Alan, meanwhile, merely froze, tilting his head and the mask to one side. The woman standing there, dressed as if she was a dancer and shielding a candle, froze in the doorway, staring at him. The pair remained frozen, then Alan giggled. "A very boxy, poxy place indeed! And who might you be?" He asked in the local language.

            The woman jumped when he spoke, dropping her candle, then picked it back up, slipping into the room and closing the door, leaning on it and looking at him. "Who… who are you?"

            "No one of great importance, dear lady, just looking for the sultan."

            She lit a lamp, blowing out the candle, looking at him as she did. "Drat, you don't seem like an assassin…"

            Alan found this phrase amusing. "Oh, no! No not at all. My friend and I just want to speak to him."

            "Friend?"

            "Oh, he's hiding somewhere behind me, his career makes him endlessly paranoid." He looked over his shoulder, switching to Common. "Show yourself, Falco, it's safe."

            "Crazy, addle-brained, stupid…" Falco muttered, standing and joining Alan slowly.

            "Be nice." Alan chided, then turned back to the woman. "You look familiar, have you a brother?" He asked, switching languages again.

            "I, I…" She stared at him. "I did. Once."

            "Oh, you still do." He assured her. "Truly."

            She looked at him, one hand touching her lips, then slowly smiled. "Who are you? Why do you have my mask?" She slowly stepped forward toward him.

            "Oh, just a passing fancy." He set the mask down on the dresser which he had picked it up from, knowing his face was well-hidden by the cape. "And my name is Alan."

            "Alan?" She tested the word. "You're a foreigner?"

            "Oh of sorts. Now, where is your friend the Sultan?" Seeing her face change, he held up his hands. "I apologize, I doubt you are friends with him."

            "No, not hardly." She shook her head. "And I will gladly tell you where his room is."

            "Are you sure this is going to work?" Falco asked.

            "Bad time to back out, isn't it?" Alan replied. "Basic rules of the church. If someone doesn't want to repent, scare them into it."

            Falco looked at him. "Had some bad experiences with the church?"

            "They never liked me anyway. Have fun."

            _'I am crazy.' Falco decided with a sigh, perched on the end of the large bed, looking down at the sleeping form of the young sultan, who didn't seem to be alone. Even better, he supposed. __'But god, I've always wanted to do this…' With that he stood, letting his cape flap out around him like demonic wings, calling up his guardian force. Human, dragon, something in between, that was for the sultan to decide as he ranted later. What mattered right now were some suitably scary effects. And Alan, crouching hidden and casting spells of illusion so fire and smoke surrounded Falco, was nicely adding to it._

            The sultan woke up with a start, and promptly shrieked, the voice of the girl joining him as they looked up at Falco, who was grinning behind the mask made by his guardian force. Of course, the dragon visage grinned as well, but he knew grinning dragons tended to scare people anyway.

            "Who… what…" The Sultan sputtered, pulling a large curved knife from a sheath hanging next to his bed and brandishing the blade with a shaking hand. Falco knocked it away effortlessly, the knife flying through the air and clattering into the wall.

            "Good evening." Said Falco quite cordially. "Am I interrupting?"

            The young sultan audibly gulped, looking up at the dragon-demon-human that had materialized on the end of his bed. "Um, er…" He drug some of his wits back, and shouted angrily, "Who are you?! How did you get in?!"

            "The guards are quite easy to get past, I'm afraid." Falco let himself laugh in the booming timbre of a dragon, the laugh increasing when the pair in front of him squealed and cringed. "And who I am does not matter. I'm here to give you a message."

            "A, a message?"

            "Yes, a message." He folded his arms. "You've been doing wrong, young one, some very intense wrongs, and there are parties who wish you to correct your ways."

            "Parties? As in deities?"

            "I'll leave that to you to figure out. The ultimatum is issued, young one. You get one more sunset, one more." He held up a finger, currently capped with a rather impressive claw that he wished he had outside his guardian force. "Do you understand?"

            The sultan nodded rapidly. "If, if I can't correct… right myself… then what?"

            Falco studied his claws. "A replacement can be found for a certain local ruler. If you catch my drift…"

            The sultan squeaked in terror, and Falco took that opportunity to disappear in a puff of smoke, or rather slip out the door with Alan while the sultan and his current attendee wove at the thick smoke Alan had conjured.

            The woman they had spoke to let them back into her room, grinning gleefully. "Mission accomplished, I take it?" She asked Alan gleefully. "My gods, I could hear him all the way from here."

            Alan grinned at her, patting her shoulder. "Yes, mission accomplished."

            Falco and Alan went back to the balcony, the woman following them, clutching a robe around herself. Falco was the first of the balcony, but she grabbed onto Alan right before he swung away.

            "Take me with you." She pleaded.

            He sighed, looking at her, then nodded.

            "We've returned." Alan sprang into the tavern portion of the inn, leaping onto a table and taking a seat. Kaji leapt from Fara's lap and managed his gangly kitten legs over to Alan, who scooped him up cheerfully.

            "I take it everything went well?" Fox asked.

            "As planned." Falco agreed, coming in. "Well, mostly." He looked over his shoulder.

            Falco hadn't been surprised when Alan had let the woman come along, and he didn't blame his companion much either. The sheer thought of any woman being imprisoned in that dreadful palace, much less a decent one… he shuddered. The woman sidled along the wall, looking at the large group which still for the most part filled the tavern of the inn.

            Soft Rain looked at her, and rocketed to his feet with a cry. She also cried out happily and met him half way, hugging him, their speech slurring quickly into the local language, speaking in gestures, clearly siblings.

            "Well, that is one factor of his rage nulled." Said Fox absently, passing a glass of mild wine to Cobra, then looking to Falco. "And the Sultan?"

            Falco grinned wickedly. "Scared witless. But will that really work in our favor?"

            "Well, we'll see tomorrow." Fox glanced worriedly at Rita, who had been sitting in a quiet trance for the last several hours. "Though this plan seemed as good as any, it still seems rough and risky to me." He shook his head. "Perhaps I've just lost my touch in leading."

            "Oh, don't even contemplate thinking that." Falco shook his head. "Allow yourself some leeway, Fox, this is not an easy situation."

            "I suppose." He stared into his mostly-empty glass. "But there is much bet on it."

            "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

            "I'll be fine." Rita smoothed what she wore, which was a fine silk robe, announcing her as a Priestess of Obad-Hai. "Priestess I may be, but I feel a bit out of place." She fingered the light green silk with a weak smile. "I am much more used to trees."

            "Well, that makes for several of us, now doesn't it?" Fox smiled back. "Contact us if you have any problems at all. We'll be at hand."

            Rita nodded, swinging astride her steed and riding up to the palace gates. It was just before nightfall; it had been in the wee hours of this morning that Falco and Alan had worked together to terrify the sultan. Now, she was seeing if they had been successful or not.

            This particular day had already been a strange one, the city oddly quiet, waiting, and now thunderous clouds rode the horizon, slowly approaching. She spared them a glance and continued her ride, stopping in front of the palace gates and calling her name and title up to the guard in the tower alongside them. The gates were partly opened, and she rode in, letting a stable hand take the reins to her mount as she dismounted easily, taking a long look around. Fox was right, this place dripped of malignancy and evil. She murmured prayers automatically as she was escorted, her long robe and cloak brushing lightly along the sand-dusted stone path.

            The palace was silent as well. No music echoed through the halls, no talk, no laughter. The guard escort led her to the throne room silently, and just as silently left her.

            "A priestess, hmm?" The sultan lifted his head. He was sitting half-sprawled in his throne, a mostly-empty wine glass held limply in one hand. His eyes were tired and watery, distant. "Another westerner? Are you a friend of Lord McCloud?" His voice grew sharp.

            "I am a member of his party yes, but that matters little." She replied, bowing to him. "I understood that there was a problem here I could perhaps help, so I came."

            "A priestess." He said to himself, looking at her. "More is the pity. A beautiful woman trapped by the church is always a shame." He finished off the last of his wine. "Tell me, what God do you praise?"

            "Obad-Hai, God of Nature."

            He managed to lift an eyebrow. "Indeed. A neutral god, if I remember right. So how do you plan on helping me, if you must be neutral as well?"

            "My preference of neutrality has nothing to do with my ability to help, Sultan."

            "Indeed." He tilted his head back and laughed, it came out in short, wheezing gasps. The demon blood was choking him, ripping life from his veins. "Does your Lord McCloud make friends with dragon-men, pray tell?" He tilted his head to one side as he asked this. "I ask because one visited me early this morn, and the accent, though very mild, was clearly western." He tossed his hand. "And the dragon-man had the same ultimatum as your Lord McCloud."

            Rita didn't let herself worry about what the Sultan suspected. "I'm here to help you, Sultan. Are you going to let me, or not?"

            He looked at her, and burning red, like rage unchecked, came into his eyes. She took a slow step back, realizing then that the demon blood had not released him, but had tightened its grip even more. This poor boy was not just tainted. He was possessed.

            "No one can help me. I don't need help." The young sultan's voice came out strange and warped, not human anymore.

            "That isn't so, young lord, I can help you." She said firmly. "But you need to fight it for me to even have a chance."

            The demon laughed, and behind the young sultan's eyes there stood a scream.

            She felt the malice intended at her, and shouted hasty words, casting a holy bolt that lanced past the lunging sultan and struck the throne, burning wood and melting metal.

            The sultan shook off, standing. "Leave me. Tell your Lord McCloud that I am sending a party for him, and I shall rip apart the entire city until I find him." He pointed at the door. "Go!"

            Knowing she was out of her league, she ran, casting spell after spell even as she did, trying to fight the darkness that clung to this place. But even her most powerful spells seemed worthless, and moments later she was riding out of the palace, the building looming behind her as the storm came in.

            "Possessed?" Cobra shook his head.

            "And coming after us?" Fox rubbed his eyes. "And there was nothing you can do?"

            "Not I alone, certainly." She shook her head wearily, muscles shivering. "I am powerful enough, in my own right, but I do not even know if the intervention of a god could help now. The taint has run far too deep."

            The groups fell silent, Fox sagging where he sat. Fara set a hand on his shoulder, looking at him, but he only looked away.

            "We can assume that he'll rip through the entire city until he finds us." Said Peppy. "And if he's possessed, he won't have any respect for human life. People are going to die tonight if he's not stopped."

            Fox wrapped a hand silently around the hilt of his Katana, grip tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He had failed in what he had wanted to do, but he wasn't going to let people die.

            Everyone around the tavern threw their arms up in surprise when glaring bright light filled the room for a split second, then Fox slowly stood, eyes glimmering gold through the soft blue of his irises.

            "I'm going to go talk to him one more time." He said very quietly. "The rest of you, fan out around the city. See if you can turn his subjects against him, as well as the local guard and militia."

            Fox's group slowly nodded, then Cobra's.

            "Do you really believe that you can talk sense into him?" Cobra asked in an almost curious voice, following Fox up the stairs.

            "I really believe that you were not captain of the guard." Fox remarked very, very quietly over his shoulder, opening the door to his and Fara's room and going to his pack, pulling out the chain mail shirt from his armor set.

            Cobra looked at him, then smiled. "You, my friend, are almost too perceptive for your own good."

            "No, it rather makes sense." He shrugged, sitting on the bed, shrugging out of his tunic and putting on the Mithral chain shirt, then pulling his tunic back on and standing. "Besides, I remembered something my father said to me about black Arabians."

            "Oh? And what's that, pray tell?"

            "Arabians aren't supposed to come in black. It's the rarest color, something like one or two for every million, and Arabians aren't that common overall." Fox pulled his Katana and ran his finger over the edge, very purposely not looking at Cobra. "But that there was a certain bloodline of Arabian that was employed strictly by a few of the royal families in the Middle East. All black." He lifted his eyes. "I seem to recall that both you and the young Sultan have black Arabians."

            Cobra laughed out loud, rubbing his eyes.

            "Then, of course, there's the simple fact that you are the same feline race as the Sultan, but that alone isn't enough to base a hypothesis on…" He sheathed the Katana and repeated the edge-test with the broadsword, then pointed the broadsword at Cobra's scimitars, the hilts of which were wrapped in cloth. "I imagine those have royal marks on them?"

            "That they do."

            "Then this mission was wrong from the start." Fox announced, leaving the room. Cobra followed, closing the door behind them.

            "I hear that right?" Fara asked, having been waiting on the stairs.

            "Yes indeed." He strode down the stairs and into the Tavern, looking at everyone, and repeated himself for them.

            "Well, what is our mission then pray tell?" Slippy wanted to know.

            "We're not trying to cure the royal family, or kill the current sultan…" Fox turned and looked at Cobra. "We're trying to push a younger brother back to his place of Prince so the real ruler can take over. Am I right, Cobra?" He lifted an eyebrow.

            Cobra smiled. "You've made one mistake in your reasoning, Fox. I'm a bastard."

            "So's the Sultan." Alan said, and Soft Rain had a quiet fit of hysterics.

            "Which I imagine is the reason why the demon blood doesn't choke you." Fox replied evenly. "And I imagine the locals would like you much better as a leader." He held out a hand. "Shall we go deal with your brother?"

            Cobra grinned full out and shook hands with Fox, and the others stood, gathering equipment.

            "Fire. They must be burning part of the city." Slippy said, craning his neck. Smoke was blotting out the stars now, and even from where they were, the scent of the burning was almost nauseating.

            Falco nodded, feathers along his upper arms spiked up as his city senses went off the charts. "Rather a form of siege tactic. The sultan wants us found, so he's willing to burn down the entire place until he finds us, with or without people in the buildings."

            "That cuts our time considerably." Fox said, rubbing his chin and sharing a glance with Cobra. "All right. Elgar? Are you willing to assist?"

            "We'll do what we can." Swore the elder mage, and his two apprentices eagerly nodded.

            "All right. See what you can do about the fires. Katt, go with them. Bill, Julian, you too." The group split up as he assigned them. "The rest of you, do what you can. Team up, at least in trios, and stay in touch." 

Cobra jumped in, assigning his people to combine with Fox's group. "We have to make sure there's at least one of you in each group that can speak the language." He said frankly. "Do what you can to keep the local citizens calm, and try to stop those fires from multiplying." He glanced at Fox. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Alan, Slippy? No demolitions." Fox said firmly.

"Aw. Damn." Alan kicked the ground. Slippy just laughed.

"Is it that much of a problem?" Cobra asked as the groups split up and he and Fox headed for the palace.

"You don't know Alan too well, so I'll just say with him, yes it is. And Slippy, well, things kind of tend to blow up around him."

"Gadget masters."

"Exactly."

The Sultan leaned on the rail of the balcony in his tallest tower, looking down at the city with a smile. The fires were spreading like a plague, and he had no doubt that Lord McCloud and his many friends would very, very soon be found. And once they were, he would see that most of them were beheaded immediately, hell, he would do it himself if need be. He would have to keep the girls around, though, he mused. Really a shame, that they traveled with McCloud's group…

His train of thought stammered to a halt, eyes widening, when an almost tornado-powerful wind blasted the city, and the smoke began to clear. Picking up a spyglass, he scanned that section of the city, and somehow was not surprised when he saw the Priestess of McCloud's group, standing on a rooftop, hands pressed together and head down, wreathed in a faint green aura. The burning fires roared in response, jumping as the wind hit them, and the sultan screeched angrily as a storm materialized from nowhere, centering over the fires and opening up. The fires dimmed and began to flicker out even as he watched them.

He slammed a fist to the balcony railing in fury, snarling. "McCloud." Clutching the hilt of his scimitar, he left the tower, heading for his throne room, still snarling to himself.

When he had left the throne room, it had been only softly lit, but when he opened the doors, he had to throw his arms up to shield his eyes. The light was like a thousand holy infernos, but there was no heat, no wind. Eyes watering, he squinted, and made out the form of Fox McCloud standing in the center of his throne room, also in the midst of a prayer, wreathed in a strange aura that made him want to shake and whimper, then he started forward in rage, drawing his scimitar and approaching Fox.

Fox heard him coming and looked at him, eyes the color of molten gold, then turned to face him, opening his arms and lifting them. The sultan heard himself screech and step back, one arm up to protect his face, when he saw strange wings and a true halo form around Fox.

"He is possessed, but the demon is not a powerful one." Fox said over his shoulder in a distorted voice, concentrating on talking. He had never had to channel this much power from Heironeous before, and was stunned he was being allowed so much. But when he had sent the one simple prayer, asking for the palace to be cleansed, Heironeous had heard, and responded by giving him enough power to do it himself. Fox was fairly certain that the minute he stopped channeling he was going to pass out, but ah well, it was a small sacrifice. "That is why he is scared of me."

"Anyone with a sane mind would be scared of you." Cobra replied, sitting on the throne, watching this through half-lidded eyes.

Fox smiled sourly. "Anyone with a sane mind and evil somewhere in their heart, you mean. Those true and good aren't scared, they're awed, typically."

"Not the first time you've done this then."

"Never on this scale." Fox looked back at the wings that had formed behind him, thinking back to his last quest with a small smile, remembering Wolf O'Donnel's remark about how he looked while channeling—'Would you kindly dim the halo? You are not an archangel, it does not compliment you.' True, he wasn't an archangel, god forbid; he hoped to actually have time to relax once he was dead…

The Sultan had drug his nerves back together, and with a screech of defiance lunged at Fox, swinging the scimitar. Fox turned to look at him, and as he did, Cobra's own scimitar intercepted the blade a foot from Fox.

"It is not him you want to fight, little brother." Cobra said in a heavy, firm tone.

The young sultan looked at his brother with eyes blinded by the demon inside him, and Fox wordlessly stepped back as the pair fought furiously for a moment, then the younger brother's scimitar flew across the room, and Cobra drug his brother to the floor and pinned him, settling his knee into the small of his sibling's back.

"Can you cure him?" Cobra asked bluntly, looking at Fox.

"I can only attempt to force him to cure himself." Fox admitted, not sure how much longer the power he held will last. "Do you want me to try?" Cobra nodded once, curtly, and Fox sighed. "All right. Close your eyes, Cobra. It is probably going to get even brighter in here."

Cobra obeyed after shifting his position slightly, but his younger sibling had lost the will to fight, staring at Fox and trembling steadily. Fox returned to his prayer, trying to find the right words, trying to map out the rite he needed. He made a mental note to ask Heironeous not to do this again, or at least to have the decorum to give him a hint.

Then, with the smoothness of a key in a lock, it all fell into place, and he felt his arms snap open as the power exploded from him, blasting through the palace and the city, scrubbing away the lingering illness and evil. He heard the young sultan's terrified screech, then the gates that had opened to allow him power closed, and he collapsed to the floor.

"You all right, Fox?" Falco asked, glancing down the table at his leader, who was slouched in the chair, holding a compress over his eyes and making a vain attempt at ignoring the world.

"I have never had such a headache in my life." Fox replied, managing not to moan. "How go things around the city?"

"Well, as you probably know we did successfully get the fires out, and the damage isn't as much as we thought, there was just a lot of smoke. Some injuries, but no fatalities." Said Bill. "One bad thing though, one of the buildings that burned was the local Lantern depot."

"Go figure." Fox grunted. When the rest of his group as well as Cobra's had arrived at the palace, they had found Cobra in charge, his younger brother timid and regretful, and Fox sitting on the throne, holding his head between his legs and swallowing whimpers. Fara had managed to help him back to the inn, which had survived, and he had slept late, though no one blamed him.

"All of the Lanterns more then got out in time. Teleportation is a boon when you're trying to escape guards." Said Falco. "They've agreed to take us tomorrow for free, because of what we did."

"Works for me, because I apologize, everyone, I am in no condition to travel today." Fox lifted part of the compress to glance at everyone, and was slightly relieved to see that no one cared.

"We came to the agreement that if you did try to leave today, I was to pin you to the bed until you agreed to stay and rest." Fara said frankly, smiling.

Fox had the sudden childish urge to stick out his tongue, but curbed it. "I'm not surprised." He finally mumbled, dropping the compress back and sagging into the chair, wincing as his sore muscles announced themselves.

A bell jingled as the front door to the tavern opened, and he heard the innkeeper's happy exclamation. A few minutes later, everyone started greeting Cobra, and he just lifted a hand in weak acknowledgement, not willing to move.

"Still tired?" Cobra said sympathetically.

"I'm not one to complain." Fox replied.

"That's all you did when you woke up." Fara remarked.

"You, I'm allowed to complain to." He grumbled. "Besides, I don't think anyone could go through that and not complain. I'm not exempt from everything." He waited out Cobra's laughter, hearing a chair being pulled up and drinks being passed, then continued. "How are things going, Cobra?"

"Still straightening out the local Militia and so on, rewriting laws and so on. I've set my brother to deal with a bunch of the paperwork of it, he didn't protest, maybe he considers it his punishment." Cobra shrugged. "I figure in a few months this place will be flourishing as much as a desert can."

"I'd wish you luck, but I do not think it's needed." Fox replied. "Don't make any deals with demons."

Cobra laughed. "No, believe me my friend, I won't, and my children will be taught the same thing. No, if someone wants help, I think the right place to look is people like you."

Fox winced, not protesting when this sparked laughter from the rest of the group. "Thank you, but if you have trouble finding knights of good nature, look to my superior."

"True. Why consult demons when you can consult gods?" Cobra grinned.


	5. Chapter Five: The Last Road

Section Five: The Last Road

            The lanterns Cobra had move the group took them to the edges of their limits, and the group went from being in the center of a desert to standing at the edge of a grassy, rocky highlands area. They quickly figured out they were only a week out from Morningstar now, and that the road would be weaving farther into the highlands as they went. Capes were taken back out, and the group settled into their normal formation, travel progressing as was fairly normal for the majority of that day.

            It was late afternoon when Peppy suddenly pulled his horse to a halt, staring off at the mountain range in the distance, twisting the reins around his hands to he point it was painful. Memories shook him, and he dropped his head, shoulders shaking. Betrayal. Dishonor. Anger, so much anger. He leaned forward, trying to shake the images.

            The group continued for a few moments, then one by one stopped, turning their horses or twisting in saddles to look at him, watching as he swung from the saddle and stared off at the mountains, eyes distant, then finally gave and crumbled to his knees, bowing his head and shakily rubbing his eyes. "God. Of all places to return to…"

            Fox dismounted and strode over. "Peppy, are you all right?"

            "No. I thought that this path we are taking looked familiar, but I just realized…" He took a deep breath and let it out. "This is the path that your father, Pigma, and I were taking on the return from the quests." He lifted his eyes to meet Fox's. "Except when we got this far, we had already lost Pigma and your father from our numbers."

            Fox looked over his shoulder at the path ahead of them, understanding what Peppy was telling him. "So you're saying that sooner or later, we're going to come upon the spot where the betrayal happened."

            "Yes." Peppy moaned, shoulder sagging. "Heironeous help me…"

            Fox pulled Peppy to his feet gently. "There isn't an alternate path, but we'll take one as soon as we're able, all right?"

            "No, we shouldn't risk adding more time to our travels, it's just that… it seems a cruel irony, to end up back on this road." Peppy said finally, leaning into the saddle of his horse for a moment, then slowly mounting back up, head still bowed.

            It was several minutes before the party started moving again.

            Several hours later, night started falling on the highlands road, and Peppy started a low chain of prayer, his low murmurs the first noises he had made since his near-breakdown. Eventually the group came across a large, clear spot the size of a decent clearing. The fire pit was well marked, this spot was apparently often used to camp.

            "This is it, isn't it?" Fox finally asked, looking at the clearing.

            "Yes. I think it is." Peppy replied, voice distant. "No, I know it is." He looked to the north, looking at the two mountain peaks that still loomed in the distance.

            "We're not going to make anything better by nightfall, Fox." Julian remarked in an uneasy voice, looking at a map. "The next town is still a half-day's ride."

            There was a long moment of silence, then Fox slowly nodded. "Then we'll camp here, but we move out first thing in the morning." He looked at Peppy, who only wearily shook his head, not protesting.

            The group left the road and dismounted, going through the process of setting up camp. Rita paced the area absently, preparing one of the basic protection spells for the campsite, then frowned, crouching and setting a hand on the ground. "Fox?"

            "Yes? Is something wrong?"

            "Yes, and no." She sat back on her heels. "The ground is warm, but it's not exactly like the sun warmed it. It's more like a presence." She looked up at him. "This camp site is well warded, Fox. Something has been protecting it. Something of great good."

            He crouched beside her, pressing a hand to the thin grass and dirt. She was right, the ground was oddly warm, but it wasn't strange so much as comforting. "You're right. Spell residue from an earlier party?"

            She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. This is something else."

            Fox wove Peppy over and explained, but he only shook his head. "I'll admit it's strange, but I can't offer an explanation. I'm not going to protest, though. If something has reason to protect this place, let it, I say."

            Rita and Fox could only agree.

            Fara had started a fire, and Alan started playing absently, a cheerful song. Even though the party was uneasy, they slowly started to settle down as the scent of good stew filled the campsite, and the aura that wrapped the campsite started to affect them. They were safe here, so they could relax.

            The party was just finishing their meal and Alan had started playing again when a strange voice reached them, scratchy and low, but with no malice in it.

            "Good bard, do you know a song by the name of Casting Stars?"

            The entire party jumped, looking around. Their steeds were calm, none of the minor spells they had cast had alerted them, but another figure had joined them, just outside the circle of light cast by the fire. The figure was male, but that was all they could tell because he was deeply cloaked, arms folded under the cloak, watching from a distance.

            "Casting Stars?" Alan asked, scratching his head. "Well, that's a request I don't hear often! Been two decades or more since that was popular. I'll gladly play it though, why don't you join us friend?"

            The figure laughed, though it almost seemed like a cough. "No. I don't want to step into the light, and I don't think you would want me to. I merely heard your violin, and I have not heard that song in quite some time." The cloak shifted, the group got the idea the figure was rubbing his chin. "The cost of living alone, I suppose, is living without music." Another coughing laugh.

            "All right." Alan stood and stepped closer to the figure, not so close as to be a threat, and started to play. The violin lent itself to the song somehow, a beautiful, lilting song. The cloak shifted again, and the group got the odd idea the figure had his head back in ecstasy, even swaying a bit in time.

            When the song ended, the figure nodded once. "I thank you, friend bard…" He trailed off, sweeping his gaze across the group. Fox felt eyes bore into him, but it wasn't unfriendly, it was… familiar somehow. He stood slowly, looking at the figure. "I should leave you now. I do not make good company."

            "Oh, let us be the judge of that kind sir." Said Alan amiably. "Please, join us."

            The figure took a step back. "Next to fire is no place for me, good bard."

            "Why is that?"

            "You do not wish to know."

            Fox slowly stepped over, staring at the figure, pain suddenly aching in his chest as a strange suspicion started to grow in him. "No, I agree with my friend. Join us. We'll be glad for the company, I wager."

            There was a long silence, and the strange laugh echoed from the figure again. "Turned in the old armor, eh, young man?"

            Peppy gasped, deep in his chest, standing. Fox held up a hand, looking at the figure. "I had no choice. A rather nasty encounter with a green dragon ruined the back plate and damaged the rest beyond repair."

            Another strange laugh. "A green dragon? You fight dragons now? Why am I not surprised?" He turned to leave. "I to have heard the legends. Strange, they used to be about me. Go well."

            "No." Fox blurted. "Father."

            Shock rippled over the group as the figure paused, seeming to look over his shoulder. "Why did you just call me that?"

            "Because, I…" Fox choked on sorrow. "I… you can't be anyone else."

            There was a long silence, and a strange, sad keen came from the figure. "You were always too damn perceptive for your own good, son." He turned back, looking at the party. 

            "James? How?" Peppy asked weakly, joining Fox. "I saw you… saw you…"

            "Don't speak of it." Was the sharp reply. "Lest I choke on rage and sadness." When Peppy nodded, the figure looked back to Fox. "I should leave."

            "Don't. Please." Fox pleaded, suddenly feeling very, very young and helpless.

            The figure sagged, then nodded. "All right. But I cannot go with you. You will not see me after tonight. Do you understand?" When Fox nodded, only then did the figure walk forward toward the fire, paced by Fox, Peppy, and Alan, slowly taking a seat and not removing the cloak.

            "You're James McCloud?" Falco very faintly asked.

            "Yes. Or what's left of him." James laughed, but it held a very bitter edge.

            "You're the one protecting this place, aren't you?" Rita asked.

            "Yes, priestess, I am. I have nowhere else to go, and so many camp here that I thought it prudent to stay and assist in my small way." He shook his head.

            "Why do you say you have nowhere else to go?" Fox wanted to know.

            "I can't go home, Fox." Was the flat reply. "I never can." He looked at his son, looking at the pendant, and let out a small, choked sob. "You of all people should know one, simple fact of what we are. Halloweds do not die easy, and when they do, they often don't even leave the earth then." He stared at the fire. "Being touched by a god is not so much a goodness of heart as an emptiness of soul and is as much curse as blessing."

            There was a long silence.

            "What has happened to you?" Fox finally whispered. "I was told what happened, how can you still be…?"

            "I'm dead, son." Was the flat reply. "The blade of one of my friends went straight through the back of my neck and came out of my throat. I'm dead, but I am cursed to walk this world."

            "Zombie?" Rita rasped.

            "No. Close though. I'm a liche." The bitter laugh came from the cape again. "Which is merely a zombie who has retained his mind and to some degree his soul." The figure leaned over, elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking and head down. "God even now… rage… sadness and rage…" He shook his head.

            Fox stared at this form that was his father, and felt enraged. How could something like this happen to his father, of all people?

            "Don't bother, son." James looked at him. "Don't bother being angry. Heironeous knows I am, but I don't think that even he can help me. I seem to be outside the reach of the gods." He looked at everyone, then slowly sighed, lifting gloved hands to the clasp on his cloak. "I know what you all are wondering, and I may as well, but you may all regret it." And with that, he undid the clasp, slowly shrugging out of the cloak.

            The passage of time had had no effect on James McCloud. The mark of the death blow was still there, a break in the white fur of his throat and across the back of his neck. The clothes he wore were simple, a tied tunic, boots, and loose pants. Gloves covered his hands, and at first glance, he seemed healthy. Then you looked closer, and saw that there was no life in evidence, that his eyes were dull and clouded, that he wasn't even breathing. He looked at them, then slowly removed one of his gloves and held up the hand beneath, closing his eyes.

            The covered hand was almost skeletal, in fact showing bone and muscle. An impact wound most likely, sharp stone perhaps, rending away the flesh of his palm to expose what was beneath. But no blood flowed. Torn flesh and muscle hung limp, what was intact flexing in full view when he moved his fingers.

            "Oh, Heironeous." Fox said, grief choking his voice.

            "This was my own stupid fault, really." He looked at his damaged hand. "Happened not long after my body was abandoned to rot. It was then I found out exactly what my fate was. I can't heal." He pulled on the glove slowly, shoulders shaking.

            "Why would fate do this to you?" Peppy whispered. "You never did anything to anger the gods, James. Hell, you should have been praised as a warrior saint."

            James threw back his head and laughed, and it was full of bitterness. "Fate is cruel, Peppy. Don't argue because I know that. Why trap me on this world when I have no reason to continue on?" He spread his hands. "As nice it is to see my son again." He looked at the younger figure, and a rueful smile spread over his lips. "God, you look so much like your mother…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to the gold band on one of Fox's hands, then flicking over to Fara. "Indeed. Congratulations."

            Fara had the sudden urge to blush.

            "That is a story I wouldn't mind hearing. You're princess Phoenix, aren't you?" He tilted his head to one side.

            "Yes, yes I am."

            "Uh-huh." He looked at his son, who smiled guiltily. "I shall refrain from any embarrassing comments, though that would practically be my duty as a parent."

            "Don't tell me you've resisted the grave purely to poke fun at me." Fox said with some indignantly.

            "Heh. I don't think even fate would be that cruel." He shook his head. "Well, as long as I'm here, what brings you here? What has been happening since, well…" He made a gesture at his throat, then cast a look at Elgar. "And stop looking at me as if I am going to jump up and drink your blood."

            Elgar jumped, much to the laughter of his apprentices.

            "What has been happening, well… that's a number of tales." Fox admitted.

            "Aye, this would not be the first quest your son has lead." Alan said with a grin. "Rather his third."

            "Third? Someone has been busy, but then, I have heard the legends." He grinned at his son, flicking his gaze back to Fara. "Maybe I shouldn't blame you. Well, start at wherever it began, by all means."

            "I can't believe he's still here." Rita whispered. It was late, but everyone was still up. The tales had been spun, and now Fox and James had left the fire, mage lights trailing after them, apparently talking as they walked. "What god could be so cruel?"

            "Hextor, for one." Said Bill in a voice marked by sadness. "I never got to meet him, before he left for the quests. I always wanted to." He stared off after the father-son pair. "But now… I mean, Kord help us, he's undead!"

            "Which doesn't immediately sign him off to evil." Slippy pointed out. "There are good liches, and they are almost always very powerful."

            "Even in death I can't see James McCloud being anything but powerful." Said Peppy in a voice marked by sorrow. "I watched him die. To think we left him, we just left him, and…" He trailed off, a sob strangling his voice. Fara pulled him down to sit next to the fire, trying to soothe him. "God. How long has he been out here, alone? Did he ever leave?" He shook his head, shaking with pent up emotion.

            "Is there any way we could help him?" Fara asked, looking around at everyone.

            "How do you help someone who is dead?" Falco spread his hands. "We can't offer him food or drink, or heal him, or even offer him a fire to sleep next to."

            "I think what she means is can we somehow lift the curse on him." Said Rita. "And I don't know. He says he's beyond the gods, which means that it's somehow his will alone binding him to the earth."

            "He wouldn't willingly turn to this state, Rita." Peppy protested.

            "He didn't. Perhaps he just had unfinished business, who's to know?" She held up her hands helplessly.

            Peppy stared off at the figures. "God. I don't want to leave him here alone again…"

            The camp fell silent in agreement.

            "I wasn't surprised, you know."

            Fox glanced at his father. "About what?"

            "When I first started hearing the ballads about you." James gave him a strange, warped smile. "I could tell some of it was lost in translation, as what I listened to was in the local language and had probably already been rotated through a few other dialects… But I could still tell the truth of the words." He paused, looking over his shoulder at the campfire, then back to his son. "I'm proud, son."

            Even though the ache in his chest was still there, those words spread warmth through Fox, and he felt himself smile. "It means a lot to me that you are."

            "I know."

            There was a long moment of silence, then he sighed. "I have to ask, and I know I shouldn't."

            "I know what you're going to ask. Go ahead. I'm surprised your friends didn't."

            "What's it like to die?"

            "You've come close a few times, why ask me? For that matter, why not ask your wife?" He raised an eyebrow.

            "Slightly different situation, I suppose. Besides, I really do not want to think about her dying."

            James sighed and stared off into space. "I don't think I can tell you, to be honest. The entire time during the interrogation, I was… I was angry. My commander dies, and one of my supposed best friends is the first to say it was me. By the time it was over, I had already resigned myself to my fate. Last things I remember saying was asking Peppy to check in on you, and requesting an actual soldier's death, a clean death. I don't remember the blade." He reached up, rubbing his throat. "I don't quite remember waking up either."

            "I'm sorry I asked."

            "I was expecting you to." Was the gentle reply.

            There was another silence.

            "Do you mind if I take a look at the katana?"

            Fox immediately took the scabbard off his belt and held it out wordlessly. "It's your sword, not mine."

            James slowly pulled the glove off his good hand and reached out, then wrapped his hand around the hilt. Fox gaped as the sharp sound of the sword's defensive magic cut the air, and James released the hilt, looking at his hand. The fur of his palm was seared, and the look on his face pained.

            He slowly lifted his eyes to Fox's as he dropped his arm. "Not anymore."

            Fox stirred and lifted his head wearily. It had been the wee hours of the morning when his father had forced him to retire, and somehow he had been glad to do so, crawling into his tent and pulling Fara close, trying to pretend his sire wasn't still out there, watching over the campsite with dead, intelligent eyes.

            It was still before dawn. He slowly crawled out of his tent and looked around, yawning. Something had woken him up, and he saw what.

            James was sat next to the fire, having stoked the fire back up, but he wasn't the only one in attendance. What seemed like dozens of wispy forms flitted around the fire, seeming to glance at Fox then glide farther away from him. "Go back to bed son." James ordered, not even looking up, staring into the fire. Watching his son's face, he smiled wearily. "Ah. You see them too, don't you?" He looked around. "I'm haunted, every night I'm haunted. Never the ghost I want to see though."

            Fox pulled himself up, muscles heavy and weary, sitting next to his father. "You mean mother don't you?"

            There was a silence, then James stabbed the fire with almost too much force. "Fate is cruel." He spat. "I still do not understand why she was taken from me."

            "I do not understand why both of you were taken from me." Fox replied. "But who are we to argue it?"

            James laughed very softly. "Indeed. You've talked to Heironeous, haven't you?" He shot his son a side glance.

            "I can say I've had that honor."

            "Strange isn't it, his halls." He shook his head. "That's where I should be now. He's even told me that, but… I'm out of his reach." His shoulders sagged a bit, then swapped subjects. "Any chance I could look at that pendant?"

            Fox took it off and handed it to him. James traced its shape absently, feeling the weight.

            "It glows in the presence of evil, doesn't it?"

            "Yes, like a star."

            James clasped the pendant between his gloved hands absently, silent for a moment.

            "Rita thinks that you're here of your own volition." Fox remarked.

            "Mm. Fara told you what was being discussed, eh?" He shook his head. "I really don't know, son. I do not know why I am here."

            "Well, you're obviously not at peace." Was the somewhat dry reply. "What bothers you so much you cannot rest, father?"

            James sagged. "I left you son. I left you, alone, even if I did teach you all I could." He opened his hands, looking at the pendant. "I shouldn't have crusaded. Some father I am." He passed the pendant back with a slightly shaking hand.

            "You almost didn't have a choice but to go." Fox protested. "And I am none the worse for your travels."

            "So you say, but I shouldn't have left you alone." He shook his head. "And then, on top of it, I failed you. I told you I was going to be back, hellfire, I promised." He looked away. "But I didn't come back."

            "You didn't have much a choice there either." Fox said, shaken by how much self hate and sorrow was in his father's voice. "Do you really loathe yourself so much for that one fact? Is that what ties you here, your hatred of yourself?"

            "I don't know, son." Was the weary, weary reply. "I really do not know." He made himself look back. "Go back to bed. Don't trouble yourself over me."

            Fox stood, recognizing the 'you-had-better' tone in his father's voice, then dropped the pendant back into his father's hands wordlessly. He brushed by the ghosts, which giggled at him faintly, darting around him, but paused before he ducked back into his tent. "Hate yourself, say what you want, but I couldn't have had a better parent. I do love you, father. I still grieve. Even now." And what that, he ducked back into his tent, holding back what he knew would be practically unending tears.

            "He's gone." Peppy shook his head. "He left us, sometime during the night."

            "I wouldn't want to attempt a goodbye if I were him, either." Alan remarked.

            Fox had been silent since he woke up, pacing around restlessly, and a short distance away from the camp a metallic sparkle caught his eye. Going to it, he found his pendant, on the ground, glowing in the sun.

            He crouched slowly, picking up the pendant, which felt warm, living under his touch. Looking at the ground, he saw a short phrase written in the packed dust, flowing Elven words.

            _Do not mourn for me, for death is only the beginning. I love you, son._

            Fara walked over to him, watching as he wiped a hand across the ground, growing alarmed when she saw that he was crying, very slowly. She knelt beside him, and he looked up at her, a strange smile crossing his face.

            "He's gone." He turned his face up to the sky. "He's joined the halls."

            "He's been released from the curse?" Fara blinked at him, standing as he did, watching him put the pendant back on.

            Fox only smiled, wiped his eyes, and returned to the group.

            "Well, folks, it would seem that we're back in raider country." Falco remarked, accepting a flask from Alan absently. "Or at least, that's what I gather from the insignias on the signposts. I mean, I'm not very good at reading English, let alone the kagi, but some things don't change no matter where we are."

            Fox looked at Elgar, who nodded. "Highwaymen band together in small groups and cause some minor havoc on these roads in between cities. They usually only travel in groups of five or so, and even then, I think they would be smart enough to avoid this particular group."

            "True, but we said something akin to that the last time we were in raider country." Fox huffed out a sigh, rubbing a temple. "We keep moving. Fara, keep an eye out for us, eh?" 

She nodded, scratching her hippogriff under its chin absently. "We'll be going through a small pass soon, and if I were setting up an ambush…" She let that hang.

Falco snorted. "I more agree with Elgar. We've got so many people obviously armed in this party that it would be flat stupid to try anything."

"Are you claiming that everyone is smart?" Alan asked.

"Point for you."

            The party moved on, and when they drew near to the pass, Fara landed and paced them from the ground, saying that she didn't have enough visibility from above. However, she had seen some signs of recent passage, a smaller party. Needless to say, they weren't very surprised when a pair of riders was waiting for them in the center of the pass.

            "Well. You are quite the party." One of the riders remarked, eyeing them. Elgar sighed and translated.

            "Depends on how you look at it I suppose. Would you be so kind as to step aside so we can pass?" Fox asked, already knowing the answer.

            "No, I'm afraid we can't do that." Replied the other. "We've got arrows on you, friends. I suggest you part with your weapons."

            He had just finished saying that when Falco, who had been shadowing the party on foot, dropped down behind both riders and cut the girth straps of the saddles. The horses reared in surprise, and as Falco swiftly knocked out both riders, a pair of archers came tumbling down the incline, hands already above their heads.

            "Nice." Fox appraised.

            Falco blinked, then slowly hooked a thumb at the archers. "I didn't do that bit."

            There was a moment of silence, then another figure stood and easily walked down the path, holding up a hand in treaty. He was a red fox, of strong Elven descent. "I did, I'm afraid. I've been following this sorry group of thieves for some time now, and when I first saw your party I thought you were merely travelers. I took it upon myself to assist." He spoke easily in English, though his accent had the muddled sound of a constant traveler.

            "The effort's appreciated." Fox replied, dismounting and holding out a hand. "And you are?"

            "Call me Tempest." The newcomer shook hands easily, eyeing Fox. "You're a knight, and if not that, at least a soldier."

            "Keen eyes." Peppy observed from where he sat nearby, still mounted.

            "Practiced." Tempest replied factually.

            "Well, then, no use in trying to play things down I suppose. I'm Sir Fox McCloud of the Phoenix Kingdom, and my friends and I are on the way to Morningstar." Fox nodded to the group.

            "McCloud? An honor, I've heard of you as well as your father. And on your way to Morningstar? Would you be willing to say why?" Tempest tilted his head.

            "There are some… difficulties there they think we'll be able to assist with."

            "Well then. Would you mind horribly if I accompanied you? It would be a welcome break from chasing this sort." Tempest nudged one of the would-be raiders with his boot absently.

            "I don't see why not." Fox glanced at Elgar. "Do you have a horse?"

            As an answer, Tempest whistled piercingly, and a muscular stallion galloped up. When the group started moving again, the would-be raiders had been disarmed, and the group number had risen to fourteen.

             "No ghosts protecting this site, eh? Bother." Alan remarked, watching as Rita stood and brushed herself off.

            "I'd count it as a good thing, myself." She replied.

            "I agree." Fox allowed a slightly sad smile, still feeling some amount of shock from the incidents from the night before.

            "Whatever." Alan shrugged, knocking back some of the liquid in his flask and wandering over to where the fire was being built, offering to help with cooking dinner.

            "Feel up to a duel, Falco?" Fox asked, twisting to pop his back. "I've been spending too much time on horseback."

            "We all have been, and no way in hell if you're proposing a one-on-one."

            Fox had to laugh at that. "Anyone else interested?"

            In the end, Falco, Bill, Peppy, Fara, and Julian agreed, teaming up against Fox in a clear spot off to one side of the camp. Slippy agreed to be referee for the match, and was watching everyone prepare as Tempest strolled over, curious.

            "Five on one. Isn't that a bit unfair?"

            "Yes. For the five." Slippy replied with a half-smile. Fox was standing in the center of the clearing, sword still sheathed, and the others had spaced out around him, in various ready stances with their various styles of swords. Peppy had unearthed his bastard sword, Bill had a pair of short swords gladiator-style, and the others simply went along with their main weapons, in hopes that familiarity may carve them a few more moments of 'surviving.' "All right. Attack!"

            All five charged at once, and Fox sidestepped, pulling his Katana and twisting, deflecting away Julian's Katana, then blocking Bill's swords one after the other. A drop and twist, and Bill hit the ground, still armed. Fara came at her husband from behind, and ended up swiftly disarmed. "Sorry love." Fox remarked, kissing her on the cheek in passing as he went into a snap kick, landing and flipping his wrist as he did another sweep, sending Falco to the ground, sword flying end over end and planting into the dirt. Even as Falco went down, Fox came back to a combat-ready stance and braced as he blocked Peppy's bastard sword, having to change combat styles as the pair fought for a moment, then Peppy submitted as Fox's blade slapped against the side of his neck. Not even stopping momentum, Fox turned and went into a flip, knocking Julian to the ground and tracing a line down his former apprentice's torso with the tip of his katana, and Julian laughed then held up his hands in surrender. Bill went down last, his short swords flying in opposite directions as he was thrown ten feet across the clearing.

            "I hate you." Falco broke the silence, sitting up, laughing to himself.

            Fox walked over and helped his friend up, grinning. "Don't quit your day job." He advised, moving on to Bill. "You've trained well. Too well. I'm not a gladiator, so don't try to fight like I am one. Peppy, nice, but I think that sword is too heavy for you."

            "Brat."

            Fara laughed. "Yeah, he is." She agreed, and stuck her tongue out at Fox.

            "You wouldn't change me for the world. And Julian, just because you're not really serving as a guard anymore doesn't mean you can always practice alone."

            "When did I ask for a lecture?" Julian wanted to know, rubbing what he figured was going to be a nice bruise in day or two.

            "Bad habit." Fox replied with a grin.

            "Not bad."

            That earned Tempest a look from the others, but Fox only smiled a bit. "So glad you approve. Should I read a challenge into that?"

            "Just so you know, fighting one-on-one with Fox is a good way to be sore the next day." Falco remarked to Tempest as he walked back to the campfire, nursing his wounded pride. The others also drifted in that direction, though they kept their ears open to the conversation.

            "Small price." Tempest replied. "I'm rather hard-pressed of recent to find a decent sparring partner…" He walked to where he had left his pack and drew out a long, slender bundle, wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it, and it revealed itself to be a katana, which he situated on his back as he walked back to where Fox still stood. "Especially one who fights in a similar style to what I was trained in. Bit unusual taste for a Knight, if you ask me."

            "Our differences make us strong, and I never formally trained as a Knight, honestly. My father taught me almost all of what I know." He shrugged. "And what, pray tell, are you trained as?"

            Tempest grinned. "A kensai."

            Fox lifted both eyebrows. "I can see where you would have problems finding sparring partners, then. Well, I feel up to a challenge." With that, he bowed easily, which Tempest returned, and the pair simultaneously pulled weapons and began to circle.

            "What, pray tell, is a kensai?" Falco wanted to know, looking around at everyone else around the fire, most of which had already started eating. Katt shoved Alan's horse back from the pot absently, so there would be some left for Fox and Tempest.

            "Sword fighting expert." Bill licked gravy off of his nose absently. "They're more or less in a continual state of training. It's not all that common to find one, but then again, it's not like anyone in this group is common in the first place."

            "You're not the only one who has concluded that." Elgar smiled over the goblet he was drinking from. "But I guess my friends and I only add to the diversity."

            Tempest and Fox, meanwhile, had leapt into lightning-fast combat, swords drawing sparks in the waning light, leaving silver and blue blurs. They had learned a fairly similar style, which translated to long, involved combination attacks, all of which were blocked, returned, and blocked again. The fight was far from silent, also, as the pair constantly made remarks back and forth to each other, mostly compliments, though one or two jeers were thrown in.

            In the end, it was almost sheer luck that Fox disarmed Tempest, and he was panting weakly through his grin as the pair clapped their hands together.

            "You, my friend, learned from a true master." 

            "So did you." Tempest replied, and the pair joined the others after he retrieved his sword from where it stuck out of the dirt.

            Travel progressed as normal after that as the path wound higher and higher into the peaks. Morningstar, according to Elgar, was built into a mountainside, both for isolation and protection. Falco remarked that it sounded much like a stronghold from their first journey, and those that had been there were more then inclined to agree.

            The roads that they turned on to grew less traveled, and soon there wasn't even farms as there had been before. The only real signs of any civilization were occasional roadside shrines, and the road itself.

            Two days out from Morningstar, the group ran across a completely desecrated roadside shrine to Pelor. It had been ripped apart by untrained hands, and burn marks surrounded the area for a good fifty feet, crossing the little-used road. The more normal horses of the group balked to enter the burned zone, and Fox's unicorn dropped the guise and led the way as if expecting attack.

            Rita went to the shrine in concern, pressing a hand to one of the burned, broken stones, and jerked back with a shriek as if burned, shakily returning to the group. It was several minutes before she was able to reply, and even then, only said one sentence.

            "Something is very, very wrong."

            The group shared a look, and Fox held up a hand for a momentary quiet, then fell into prayer himself. Nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around at the others. Fara spread her hands helplessly, Rita looked away, and even Alan looked bewildered.

            "Not to common that Olidammara doesn't feel talkative." Alan was the first to speak.

            "None of our chosen deities do." Fox replied. "I agree with Rita. Something is very wrong indeed." He looked at Elgar. "Is there any sort of magic field around Morningstar that would extend this far?"

            Elgar shook his head vigorously. "Not besides teleportation and communication routes, and those are only open at certain times. None of the ambient magic of Morningstar could interfere with a prayer, that would cripple us in more ways then I could possibly list in my lifetime."

            Elijah nodded. "Religion and magic are pretty well connected at Morningstar. We've got a lot of Clerics, among other specialists, and the school as a whole would loose a good 80% of its strength if it was cut off from the gods."

            "Then this is something else, though I have no doubt it's related." Fox looked up at the silent, empty blue sky, eyes half-closed. He was completely cut off. He was a disciple, a holy warrior of his god, and he was cut off. It was a strange feeling. "We keep moving. There's nothing else we can do. And if it IS related to what is happening at Morningstar, all the more reason to arrive there, and quickly."


	6. Chapter Six: A Slowly Dimming Star

Section Six: A Slowly Dimming Star

            Falco leaned back in his saddle, staring up at the massive fortress that was Morningstar. By his estimate, the capital of the Phoenix kingdom could probably have fit inside, and quite comfortably. The entire stronghold seemed made of a pale blue stone, but it gleamed like glass, assembled by magic. A wide assortment of towers spiked up from the walls, and unlike most fortresses, there were a wide multitude of windows, all large and glassed over, even if they had arrow-proof shutters that could be closed over them. He could see people moving around inside, a few of which had already stopped curiously to look out at the party waiting at the gates.

            "Do they normally take their sweet time?" He finally asked, looking at Elgar.

            "Shift change for those on guard duty." Elgar replied honestly. "Speaking of such…"

            Instead of a portcullis standing between the world and the school, a faint golden glow prevented them from entering, and after a moment, the glow disappeared, and a slender black jackal strode out, dressed in what seemed to be ceremonial Egyptian wear, even if Morningstar was in the mountains. The cool air didn't seem to bother him any. "Adept Elgar! Thank gods you've returned, we were starting to worry."

            "We're fine." Elgar assured the jackal, then turned to the party. "This is…"

            "Anubis." Finished Alan for him. "Right?"

            The jackal huffed. "My mother had a sense of humor." Golden eyes skipped from party member to party member, finally fixing on Fox. "Glad you know you're successful. Well, come in, I'm sure the old SOB wants to talk to this lot." He gestured for the group to ride through the gates.

            "The old WHAT?" Katt asked. Falco was smothering hysteria.

            "Sorcerer Olicar Bendel. The Superintendent of the school." Anubis gave Katt an amused look, eyes mischievous. "But it's a bit much to say… when he's not around…"

            Slippy snickered. "I like this place already." 

            Within the outer wall of the compound were actually a decent number of buildings. Instead of actually being a castle, the wall was more or less just that—a wall of huge, rambling, connected buildings of various appearances. Wood, stone, metal, and who-knows-what else had been used to define the buildings from each other, and after a moment the group realized that the different buildings were different specialties, though most of the buildings hugging the actual mountain seemed to be used for housing. The wall of buildings closed off a huge area, which was being used for a multitude of things. For one, the stable was there, along with what appeared to be a small city.

            "This place must house thousands." Peppy remarked, looking around as he dismounted. The students currently staffing the stable came out and collected the horses, not looking all that surprised by the hippogriff and Alan's grinning horse-gone-outsider, and Fox's unicorn was still under disguise.

            "The number changes, year to year." Elgar said. "And it's not only a school, it's a place of study."

            "Which we are quite proud of." A later-thirties snow leopard strolled up to the group, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a loose sorcerer's robe. The other students which had drifted over to eye the new arrivals gave him more then wide berth.

            "Superintendent Bendel." Elgar smiled a bit. "News travels fast."

            "Almost as fast as unfavorable nicknames." Bendel smiled a bit. Anubis seemed to want to shrink into the ground. "Glad you're back. Things aren't improving." He looked at the group. "Eleven? Hmm, I had heard your group numbered ten, Lord Siannodel."

            "Fox." He hastily corrected. "And if you really must address me by a title, use 'Sir.' And we did, on our last quest. Tempest recently joined us, I hope you don't mind."

            "Not at all." Bendel nodded once, as if approving of Fox. "I imagine everyone here has been filled in on our predicament, then. It's still spreading, though for the most part it's only those in Nomenclature that are being stricken." He looked at Elgar. "You and your apprentices may wish to leave here until this is solved."

            "No, better we stay."

            "As you will." He looked back to Fox. "And, more recently, our clerics have been having troubles as well, though not yet on the scale of our Nomenclature specialists."

            "We'll do all we can, though I'm honestly not sure if we will be able to help." Fox replied.

            "I suppose it's the thought that counts." He glanced at Alan, who was eyeing him curiously, chewing on the end of his quill. "And no, I'm not the age I appear to be."

            Alan grinned around the feather. "I didn't think so, sir, though it would have been entertaining if you were."

            "I imagine those around here would be even more scared of me if I was." Was the somewhat frank reply, then Bendel surveyed the entire group. "Well, let's see about getting you temporary lodging, and then I'll give you enough of a tour you won't get lost."

            The group nodded, and Elgar and his apprentices split off to another part of the complex.

            "Quite impressive actually." Slippy finally said, leaning on a windowsill and staring out. "Every traditional school of magic is represented, plus the other branches and specialties."

            "What else would you expect from a place like this?" Falco wanted to know, with the air of one a bit bored. He was perhaps the only one who couldn't gleam anything from Morningstar, due to the fact that he was completely null to magic.

            "True I suppose." Slippy looked to Fox. "Can we actually do anything about their problems though?"

            "We've come all this way. We're going to try."

            "Translation: we're not leaving until we can help or we can find someone who can." Falco said, keeping the bored tone.

            Bells started ringing in what counted for the town square, and doors started opening as students began moving about, some already sprinting for their next class, others ambling for the town square or toward housing. The group waiting in the hall was paid little mind, but they were content with crowd watching. Morningstar was a world cross section, with almost every intelligent race and culture represented in some way. Elves and humans were in abundance, but so were gnomes, Halflings, and everything else under the sun. Dress seemed pretty much up to the students, as long as they had a patch for their magical path somewhere on their person, so the hall was briefly a swirl of culture and color. Upper classmen and certain specialties did wear robes, but even those seemed to be subject to personal customization.

            "You'd think there would be a dress code." Bill remarked.

            "Easier said then done, with this many students and three dozen main languages to translate rules to." Said a voice at about hip height.

            The group looked down as one, and blinked at what appeared to be an extremely oversized grey housecat. At first glance, the creature was normal, but then you noticed the black tattoos, the silver earrings, the generally emaciated body, and the wide, obnoxious grin.

            "The old SOB got caught up with a few of the other teachers." The cat announced, sitting down, tail joints rattling across the pseudo-stone floor. "So he sent me to tell you so."

            "Oh. Works for us, friend. And who might you be?" Alan asked.

            "No one in particular." The cat kicked a moth-bitten ear. "Sort of the school familiar. In other words, your friendly messenger service." The cat rolled his lantern-yellow eyes. "So you're the heroes, eh? This might be more entertaining then I thought, and this place could use a little entertaining every now and then."

            "And here we thought the school was going through a trauma." Falco drawled.

            The cat looked at him pointedly. "I look like a student of Nomenclature to you?"

            "I don't know, do students of Nomenclature normally resemble undead housecats?"

            "I'm not dead." The cat kicked its other ear. "You'd be hard-pressed to prove it, though."

            Anubis, standing nearby, snorted softly. "He started out as a necromantic familiar, but then some of the clerics got hold of him, and gods-only-know who else after that, so he's just kind of… here. The funny part is, he's one of about six creatures that run around that are in similar states, and no one claims ownership or blame for what happened to them, and they aren't saying."

            "I take more then enough from the likes of you." The cat scowled at Anubis. "At least I don't pretend to be a foreign deity."

            "And I don't walk around like I own the place."

            "Yes. You do."

            "Entertaining as this is." Fox interrupted. "When will Bendel be along?"

            "I'm here." Bendel said, waving away violet-tinged smoke from his appearance. "Worrisome chaps. They thought it would be dangerous to let you wander around here, but I hold it's more dangerous not to." He shrugged. "Would your entire group be needed, or could I just take a few on this part?"

            The group exchanged a look. "I'm leading, but that doesn't amount to much. I imagine we'll be discussing magic, so Katt and Slippy should be included, and so should Peppy and Rita, for the experience end of things." Fox said.

            "That's a much better group size." Bendel agreed, and looked at the others. "I trust you won't get lost?"

            "We should be fine." Said Fara.

            "All right then." Bendel wove a hand, and both he and the five disappeared in puff of green smoke.

            "Changes colors every time. Showoff." Grunted the cat.

            "This is the hospital wing of the school." Bendel explained as the group walked down a wide, airy corridor. "It's empty, most of the time, because we have so many clerics and other such healers. In fact, it hasn't been this full since the last time a foolish warlord decided to attack this place."

            "How long ago was that?" Peppy asked.

            "Eh, at least seventy-five years. I personally made sure I smacked the warlord in question when we finally captured him. We ended up taking him on as a student, for a short time…" Bendel trailed off, opening a set of double doors.

            A cleric walked up. "No change." She confirmed before Bendel asked.

            "For the better, I take it."

            "Or for the worst, really, but how you define such things is really up to toss." She sighed, and looked past him at the group. "Part of the so-called hero group that's supposed to save us all, I take it?"

            "Go back to your room and get some sleep." Bendel said gently. "You've obviously not had any for some time."

            She huffed out a sigh, nodded, and brushed past the group, mouth drawn down into grim, hopeless lines.

            "You have to pardon her. She's been here since this thing started." Bendel turned down another corridor, then paused to tap at a door. "Janice, are you awake?"

            "I don't sleep anymore." Was the tired, tired reply. "Come in, Superintendent…"

            Bendel opened the door and gestured for them to follow him in.

            Huddled on the wide windowsill of the main window was a lady gnome, middle-aged in appearance, face haggard with exhaustion, normally bushy squirrel tail somewhat moth-eaten and ignored, hanging limply off the windowsill. An insentient grey fox peered at the group from under the unused bed warily. She looked at Bendel and managed a very tired smile, then glanced past him, normally bright black eyes dull and flat. "Fox McCloud and partial company, I take it."

            "Things have gotten around, it would seem." Fox smiled a bit.

            "The very walls have ears in this place, and sometimes literally." Janice replied. "In case you're wondering, I'm one of this school's central teachers and adepts for Nomenclature… or, at least, I was…" She trailed off, looking at her small hands, working her fingers together. "I imagine you know the tale."

            "So we've heard." Rita moved forward, pausing a few feet away from the small woman. "Do you mind if…?"

            "Go ahead."

            Rita started a gentle check over of the gnome, finding pulse, looking at eyes, et cetera. The gnome ignored it, instead looking at the others.

            "We've been filled in, but perhaps you should do so from your perspective." Said Peppy. "Was it a gradual change, or sudden?"

            "For me, it was gradual. Took twelve days and seven hours." The thin shoulders shrugged. "I would almost rather it had been fast. It was like being drained of everything I was."

            "Explain that more."

            There was a pause. "My power was taken away. All of it. I'm a null now. I can't feel anything or control anything, not even the simple light spells of this room." She gestured to the mage lights. "I can't sleep, either. Everything seems dull and faded."

            "Did some of the others loose their power all at once?" Slippy asked.

            "Some of us, yes, usually at the end of longer spells or rituals." She stared off into the distance. "They're mad, now."

            "What were the first warnings?"

            "Minor things, really. Premonitions from those in that specialty, routine spells going awry, generally strange signs, but in a place like this you tend to ignore the small things, so we did, until one by one, we adepts started loosing contact with our power." She shrugged. "Nomenclature is one of the smaller branch schools in this place. Less then one hundred people, mostly adepts with a few apprentices and those doing select studies. The trouble actually started with the apprentices, or that's how I understand it, but it wasn't taken into consideration that we may be in serious trouble until we lost about a dozen adepts."

            "A DOZEN?" Katt blanched.

            Janice gave her a look. "This is a big school, Sorceress. We burn out. We get tired. We all have our off days. It wasn't until the first twelve found each other here that we started talking to Bendel about it, and by the time we put someone out to talk to you, we were down by half. Now it's all of us."

            "This is definitely a little more serious then we thought. And now the clerics are having trouble?"

            She nodded. "And some of the other houses too, if I hear things right. It's like the entire place is being shunned by the gods, and we are feeling it stronger with each day."

            There was a long silence, during which Rita stepped back, shaking her head. "Besides exhaustion and some minor malnutrition, everything is how it should be."

            "The worst illnesses are those that are a mystery." Janice replied. "I wish you luck with this, I really do. But I've spent many sleepless hours, and I can't figure out why."

            "Perhaps we'll have better luck." Said Peppy.

            "You're going to need it, friend."

            "All right, to recap, it only seems to be here that it's happening, and it's everyone here for Nomenclature." Said Katt, rubbing her eyes. "With the exception of you and your apprentices, Elgar."

            "Which would generally lead one to believe that whatever the problem is, it's based on location, not on school of magic." Said Fox. "Have you told anyone else about this problem?"

            "First rule to not getting attacked is to never admit weakness." Said Bendel dryly, picking up a goblet of wine.

            "Which I take to mean you haven't talked to Mezobarlin, either."

            "No, and even if I tried, I highly doubt they would take our calls." 

            There was a long silence as the group looked at each other for a moment, then Falco lost it. "How in all hell can a school of wise magic users have such poor common sense?" He demanded.

            "Look, human, I highly suggest you do NOT take that tone of voice with me." Bendel said in a severe tone. "Mezobarlin is against Morningstar, and we've been at war before. If we came forward and admitted that an entire class sector had been lost, they wouldn't delay, they'd start hitting us immediately. Or they would turn around and sell the information to those that wanted it."

            "So it's more of a trust issue then a common sense issue." Peppy sighed. "Bendel, do us a favor and contact them. Tonight. Because to be quite frank, if they've been against you this long, why couldn't they have done this to your school?"

            Bendel was silent for a long, long moment. "The teachers and I have been considering that as a possibility for a long time." He admitted. "So call them and request a truce, then."

            "Right.  Thank you, Bendel." Said Fox. "In the mean time, let's just try and figure out how it's being done." He spread a map of the school out on the table absently. "As said, we can assume it's all based on location, based around the school. A by-location enchantment, then?"

            "That'd be magic on a major scale." Said Slippy. "But it's doable if whoever cast it is powerful enough."

            Bendel nodded agreement. "We've got trip alarms on the school, though. Our own can cast spells on our school, but any outside enchantments sets off a screeching noise that could deafen a harpy."

            "Suppose you could get around that, though?" Bill asked. "There are holes in every defense."

            "All right, let's say it's been done. How would you find that particular enchantment?" The Superintendent spread his hands. "I'm the seventh leader of this school. It's been here almost a millennia, though it hasn't always looked the same. There are layers and layers of enchantments, spells, and rituals binding this place together. The very concourse was constructed by and is held together by magic. Different magic classes have different enchantments on their buildings, a glut of regional enchantments have been cast, and the gods-only-know what else. You can't exactly leaf through spell layers by date."

            "Wouldn't it just be the uppermost layer then?" Peppy asked, trying to piece together a mental image.

            "Logically, but not much of this place is logical anymore." Bendel admitted. "Sooner or later we'll have to shut down and sort everything out. Rip out all the enchantments and start over."

            "Leave that until later." Rita advised. "Since as near as I can tell the enchantments happen to hold this place together, in more ways then one."

            "It'll probably be another century. That way all of the partying idiots can have their millennia anniversary." Bendel chewed on a claw absently, noticed he was, and scowled at his hands. "Five hundred years and I still can't break that habit…"

            "So it would be impossible to find the enchantment, if it was one?" Tempest broke in, having been silently listening.

            "Not impossible, nothing is. Just very unlikely."  He frowned. "Being logical again, whatever enchantment this bastard thing is would have to be extremely specialized, and my best guess is that it would be a customized null-magic spell. Very customized, to slip through all the nets here…"

            "But there are null-magic zones here." Slippy remarked. "Housing."

            "Specialized null-magic. No one except teachers and adepts can cast in the housing units, since we figure the students are a bit more apt to set the place on fire. Of course that's been proved otherwise more then once." He managed a half-smile. "One teacher in particular is banned from casting anywhere but in his class building, because he set the library on fire. We still aren't sure why, or why, for that matter, the fire was pink."

            "Pink?" Falco asked, and was ignored.

            "We're leaving something out, though. There would be multiple enchantments on this place, and one would be extremely large scale." Said Fox. "This place has been cut off from the gods, has it not?"

            "We aren't sure yet. The clerics think so. They're having some trouble, in fact, it's anyone who uses divine arts." Said Elgar, after glancing at Bendel. "Which I suppose is an expansion of the enchantment on those practicing Nomenclature, since it is technically a divine art."

            "Depends how you look at it, and that would explain why Rita and myself have no contact with our gods." He replied after a long moment of thought. "Alan?"

            "Uh-huh." Was the response from under the table.

            "Would cutting off divine arts cut you off from magic?"

            There was a pause, then magical lights exploded through the room. "I'm ok, boss. But I sorta lost contact to Olidammara, and we're usually pretty chatty if he feels bored."

            Bendel leaned over in his chair to look at the bard. "There's a bit more to you then you let on."

            "Why would I admit to anything?" Alan wanted to know.

            Bendel grinned as he straightened up, then sobered. "Well, we more specifically have the focus of this thing, then. I suppose the next step would be trying to find the enchantment, then?"

            "If possible." Said Rita.

            He stood. "I'll gather a group of teachers and adepts I trust that will be willing to work with all of you and get them started on preparing. It's a bit late in the day to start, but we could start first thing tomorrow, which may be best so everyone is refreshed. I'll also try to contact Mezobarlin and the other magic schools and see if they're having similar problems. Do you think you can all find this meeting room tomorrow morning?"

            "With any luck." Bill said.

            "All right then. At first bell tomorrow then." Nodding to everyone, Bendel disappeared, the smoke tinged red this round.

            Night fell slowly, with several members of the group retreating to Morningstar's main library. Originally it had only been Slippy and Katt, but Peppy and Rita also joined them in their research, leaving the smaller group to wander the grounds and speculate on what was going on, or if solving it was even possible.

            "We're fighters, not magic consultants." Falco grouched out loud to the others. "Wouldn't it have been easier to call in other magic users then haul all of us cross country?"

            "That all depends on who is behind this." Said Fox quietly, looking out across the 'town square' of the school, watching as the final rays of light slipped behind the walls, and softly glowing lamps started lighting up the area. Almost at the same time, some of the school buildings came to life with light. "This isn't just a simple disenchantment we have to go through, Falco. Something massive is moving behind this…"

            "You're sure about that?" Falco glanced at him.

            "To be honest, I'm wondering if this is a side effect of the turmoil in the divine courts." He rubbed his chin. "There's another war coming…"

            Tempest startled, looking at Fox. "You're serious."

            "Quite." Fox said dryly. "It's been escalating to that for the last three or four decades, according to what Heironeous remarked on to me, but it's coming to a head now. The thing is, I'm not sure if it's simply a divine war. There's something else." He rubbed his eyes. "Of all the times to be cut off from my god."

            "Hey, at least they talk to you." Falco reasoned.

            "I'm inclined to agree. Do you know how many in the divine arts go their entire lives without hearing a voice?" Anubis asked, leaning on his staff absently. "Count yourself as lucky, Fox."

            "I count him as highly taken advantage of." Fara replied. "And had you seen some of the events of our last quest, you'd probably agree."

            "Such is the way of the gods." Anubis shrugged.

            Alan, watching those moving around the town square, suddenly perked up and left the group, striking a conversation with a crowd of elves, or what the group took to be elves until they looked closer.

            "Drow?" Tempest looked at Anubis. "Drow attend here?"

            "Yes, though they're a minority, and all in night classes. We don't get all that many since Morningstar doesn't allow the teachings of Lolth." Anubis shrugged. "Mezobarlin does to some degree, so they have more Drow there then this place does. What we get is mainly nontraditionals, those fed up with the whole culture they were born into."

            "For someone who supposedly hasn't been here very long, you're fairly knowledgeable about this place." Julian remarked.

            Anubis grinned at him, teeth bright white against his fur. "I listen."

            Alan eventually wandered back. "That was interesting." Was his only comment, voice cheerful.

            "How so?" Tempest asked.

            "Apparently this school houses vampires, too."

            Those standing there looked at Anubis, who shrugged and offered no explanation.

            Tempest sighed, leaning on the windowsill of the dorm room he was using and staring out the school. Dawn was just breaking, filling the horizon with dim light but leaving the school courtyard still dark with early morning. Morningstar was already waking up, the dining hall and other central buildings aglow with light.

            "So."

            He shot a foot in the air and looked over his shoulder. "Gods, Fox, don't scare me like that."

            "Sorry." Fox replied, coming fully into the room and leaning against a table.

            "Any reason for such an early visit?"

            "Just wondering why you never retired." Was the even reply. When Tempest offered no explanations, he continued. "If you don't mind me guessing, is this something to do with your general loathing of the Drow?"

            Tempest looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, turning back to the window. "You don't miss much."

            "Your body language made it fairly obvious. If you won't want to tell me, that's fine, but I wouldn't mind an explanation."

            There was a long silence, then Tempest sighed again, shrugging out of his tunic and turning around.

            Fox was silent, then said, "Those scars are from near-mortal wounds."

            "They should have been." He replied. "I know you come from a rather high-standing Elven line. Did you hear what happened to an Elven family known as the Galanodels?" Seeing Fox's manner change, he nodded. "I was born to that family and trained as Kensai since I was able to hold a sword. One of my fellows betrayed the entire village. I'm all that's left, and I really should have died." He pulled his tunic back on. "Hence why I have such a severe dislike of the Drow. They destroyed everything that mattered to me."

            "I'm sorry I asked."

            "Don't worry about it. I've heard you've had your encounters with the Drow as well."

            "On the last quest, yes, and it was one of our closer scrapes." Fox looked at the window, then started for the door. "The first bell will sound in a bit less then an hour, so I have to pry everyone else out of bed." He remarked over his shoulder. "See you at breakfast."

            "All right, settle down, to business." Bendel said, walking to the end of the table. The decent-sized group that had been assembled all sat and waited. "First thing, you all know I made calls to every magic school I'm able to, and interestingly enough, we are not the only school having these problems, however, the others are mainly small institutions dedicated to teaching clerics and thus forth. Also, Mezobarlin refused my call."

            This caused a quiet stir.

            "That doesn't mean we can blame them, however, I can say we more then have room to suspect." Bendel continued grimly. "But we are not going to make any moves right now. The first order of business is diagnosing the type of enchantments that are on this school and finding a way to remove them." He leaned into the table. "Does anyone have a way to do this that won't take a several-day ritual?"

            Everyone started talking at once. Katt, who had been one of the first, quickly got annoyed and filled the air with firework illusions until the council settled down.

            "Some of my comrades and I spent most of the night in this school's library, and we came across the fact that every teacher or adept that casts a localized enchantment has to have permission, and a list is kept." She rattled her claws on the table. "I suggest we start there. Go through the list, enchantment by enchantment, for the time period that you've been having trouble and a month before. From there, if all is as it should be, we can look for enchantments that aren't supposed to be there."

            "Are you suggesting one of our own betrayed us?" Snarled a dwarf, hackles rising.

            "Calm down. It's a good idea." Said Bendel. "Cat, are you here?"

            The perpetually-grinning former necromantic familiar faded into existence. "The list?" He asked.

            "Right."

            The school familiar faded back out.

            "Why not do both tasks at once?" Asked a pixie, wings beating nervously. "Split this council into two groups, and have one focus on the planned enchantments, and the other can start looking for things that should not be."

            This got nods all around, and Bendel sized everyone there up and quickly split the group into two teams, keeping Fox's group separate.

            "I imagine you'll want the ability to jump into conversations as needed." He remarked to Fox's group even as the grinning cat faded back in, currently not grinning because it held a rather large leather-bound book in its mouth. "Thank you." Bendel took the book and began flipping through by month. "Going back to a month before the troubles were declared… that's still over a hundred listed enchantments, and most maintenance." He shook his head. "Still this would probably be the best way to do things." He passed the book off to the correct party. "You know, if anything, your group being around will keep all of us honest. We're a bunch of ego-tripping braggarts, at best." He said to Fox.

            "At least you admit it." Falco said with a grin, not even wincing when Katt's elbow went into his ribs. He was used to bruises.

            The day wore on very slowly, with multiple frustrations arising. By noon, tempers were short, but sheer stubbornness kept the entire group there. Even Fox shook his head at the level of disdain the Morningstar adepts and teachers had for Mezobarlin, and just the idea that their rival school might have caused the problem kept the group working.

            "We've got something." Called a lady elf, and attention rippled toward the group going through the listed enchantments. "About a week before the major problems really started, a bunch of the maintenance enchantments were renewed…" She scowled at the book she held. "We skipped over these the first time we went over this list, just hitting the more likely candidates, but that got us nothing so we decided to check these, and this one isn't behaving right."

            Slippy, who was assisting in checking over the listed enchantments, nodded, poking at invisible magic spider webs that floated in front of him. "This is supposed to be a basic empowerment spell, maintaining the lights and thus forth, but it's too complex."

            "Who cast it?" Bendel asked, also peering at the invisible spider web. Seeing Alan braiding stray strands, he smacked the bard's hands away absently.

            "Terrance Adkins, one of our instructors for Conjuration." Replied the Elf.

            Rita walked over and contemplated the invisible strands. "Know what this here resembles?" She finally said, circling a hand in midair. Falco peered over her shoulder and didn't see a damn thing, and backed off, mumbling something about 'berserk magic users.' "Null magic field. It's a lot like the one you use for the dorms."

            "It is that." Bendel said, staring closer. "That's exactly what that is." He flashed his hands in the air, and a simpler version of the spider web came up beside the first one. "There's the empowerment spell. Think we can swap these two without too many problems?"

            Those not involved watched with some interest as fully a dozen magic users removed the misbehaving enchantment and replaced it with the new one, the lights only flickering twice in that time period. The misbehaving enchantment was bound so it could be experimented on.

            "Can I try something?"

            Bendel looked at Alan. "As long as you don't damage anything."

            "Katt, cast those lights again." Alan instructed, and when she did, he darted a hand forward and activated the enchantment.

            The lights dissipated, sucked into the enchantment, nulling out.

            There was a long silence, then Bendel looked around until he found the school familiar. "Cat, find Adkins. Bring him here now, and I don't care if it interrupts a class. He has some explaining to do."

            Adkins looked around at the gathered group, twitching a bit every now and then. He was a human of reptilian descent, somewhat tall and slender, with gold eyes. He wore the robes of his station, and had tucked his hands into the sleeves as he waited for someone to start talking.

            "I imagine you know of the problems the school has been having." Bendel finally said, frowning at the teacher. "We went through and double-checked all of the listed enchantments, and we ran across one of the ones you cast as part of maintenance. The thing is, you used a spell that is nonstandard, and so we wanted to ask you about it."

            "What, do you think that _I_ am causing the problems?" Adkins wanted to know, looking caught between extreme worry and the impulse to laugh.

            "This is the first thing we've run across that isn't as it should be, so we decided to ask you about it." Bendel hooked a thumb at the still-bound misbehaving enchantment, which Slippy had been experimenting with. "Why would a light spell have a section dedicated to null?"

            Adkins walked forward, lifting his hands and prodding at his spell, only glancing at Slippy, who was sitting on midair. "I cast it as standard." He finally said. "I am not sure what this is…"

            "It wasn't altered. This is as-cast." Said Slippy. "That I am sure of. So unless someone swapped spells out after you cast the original, you did this."

            Alan, still braiding stray strands absently, nodded. At this point, he had macraméd an invisible curtain. "Yeah, this magic is too solid to be altered."

            Adkins frowned at Alan, then at Slippy, then turned to Bendel and spread his hands. "I plead innocence, Bendel. I didn't do this." 

            "Why don't I believe you?" 

            Bendel turned and looked at Fox, who was standing with his arms crossed, looking oddly uneasy. As he started asking a question, the doors to the room opened with a boom, and a panting cleric straggled in, falling to his knees in front of the group, eyes wild with panic. Bendel leapt forward and knelt beside the cleric, setting a hand on the young man's shoulder. "What's happened?"

            "The adepts… the adepts that are staying at the infirmary…" The cleric panted. "Something's happening… they've all gone stark raving mad, all of them… last twenty minutes or so… they're practically uncontrollable… Janice won't stop screaming, and it's not even a coherent language… we've lost three in the last ten minutes…" The cleric trailed off, going limp in exhaustion.

            Katt made her way forward and set a hand on his neck, looking at Bendel. "Magic burnout?"

            He nodded grimly. "Yes. Defensive spells, I think… And where are you going, Adkins?"

            "Well if there's a problem, shouldn't we be going to help?" Asked the flustered conjurer, stopping where he had been edging toward the still-open doors.

            Bendel glanced around, and the greater portion of the magic users teleported out, on their way to the infirmary. "The rest of us will go there shortly. You, however, still haven't been declared innocent, so you aren't going anywhere."

            "Bendel, this is unnecessary." Adkins frowned furiously, tail lashing and eyes blazing. "I didn't do it."

            Bendel looked at Fox, who shook his head, then at the rest of the Fox's group, who agreed with their leader. Then he looked back. "Well. They don't believe you, and frankly, neither do I."

            "Why should you believe them?" Adkins shouted at the top of his lungs.

            "Why are you flaring with evil?" Rita replied.

            There was a moment of frozen silence, then Adkins lunged for the window. Falco lunged almost simultaneously, tripping the conjurer and bringing his elbow down on the back of the conjurer's neck. Adkins tumbled forward to his hands and knees, then threw back his head and let out a long, pulsing, inhuman scream. Then Falco was thrown back as Adkins surged to his feet, ripping out of the robe as fully a dozen grotesque snakes exploded out of a seam in his torso. 

            Bendel started shouting, but before he was finished the alarm spell activated in another part of the school, the deafening harpy-like scream assaulting everyone's ears as the group leapt back from Adkins, pulling weapons and preparing spells. 

Then the cat arrived, yelling one thing. "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

            "You're a bit late on that!" Falco snapped, sword drawn and deflecting away one of the striking snakes.

            "He isn't your problem!" The cat snarled, and was punctuated by a thunderous roar from the courtyard. "THAT is!"

            The roar having distracted even the most focused of the group, Adkins shouted a spell and would have disappeared into thin air if he hadn't suddenly found himself wearing Alan's macraméd magic curtain. That surprised him enough, even more so when he found out he was caught in the center of a version of his own null spell, combined with a binding spell.

            Alan yanked one of the cords, and Adkins crumbled to the ground, snakes bound in strange ways around his torso, looking thoroughly had. "Now, just to check my own sanity, this fellow is a gorgon, am I right?" He asked, yanking on the cord again just out of spite.

            "That would be my guess." Bendel said, looking amused, then furious when the roar sounded again, followed by frantic screaming. He turned to Fox. "Could you handle that until I assemble the school?"

            Fox nodded, then Julian spoke up from the window. "We'll do all we can Bendel, but I hope you won't take to long. Unless I am mistaken… that is a hydra, and there's a bunch of lower gorgons running around as well."

            "All the more reason to hurry then." Bendel disappeared into a puff of purple smoke, leaving Fox's group to sprint out to the courtyard. Alan, however, stayed behind, keeping an eye on the tied-up Adkins.

            The courtyard of the school was in utter chaos, the protective magic bubble of the school shattered, the gates open and being mobbed by lower gorgons. Fights were all over the place as frantic students gathered in packs for safety, casting what magic they knew, and those that were more combat-ready used more solid weaponry. Thick smoke made the chaos even worse; the stable was slowly burning down. Even as Fox looked he saw that Fara's hippogriff and Alan's horse were herding the more normal steeds out. His unicorn was doing battle with the main danger, which was in the form of a huge hydra. Half of the town that the courtyard had housed had been utterly destroyed, and those fleeing were finding themselves mobbed by the gorgons.

            "We're going to have to split up before more get wounded or die." Fox ordered. "Peppy, take Julian, Slippy, Katt, and Fara and focus on the gorgons. Rita, go with them, tend the injured." They nodded and broke away from the main group, sprinting away. "Everyone else, we're going to have to see about both distracting and dispatching the hydra." They nodded, pulling weapons, and the entire group moved forward toward the hydra. "This won't be like fighting a dragon. Any ideas?" Fox asked even as they walked, holding both of his swords.

            "It's a pyrohydra, a firebreather." Said Tempest. "That much is obvious…"

            "Wait." Falco ordered, and the group paused, watching as a wizard wound up a spell and cast. Blades formed in midair and plunged into the hydra, severing three of the twelve heads, but six sprung from the bloody stumps, and the blades deflected away from the main body. "That, my friends, is a Lernaean hydra. Immune to almost all attacks and grows back two heads for every one lost." He said grimly. "We're as good as dragon food."

            "You must be worried, to botch and say that thing is a dragon." Bill snorted. "Your sword burns, right?"

            "So does mine." Fox said as Falco nodded.

            "Better pray that's enough, because it just saw us." Tempest said.

            Fox's unicorn dodged away as the hydra turned to face the four fighters, and at Fox's thoughts left the area, charging at and dispatching gorgons instead. Two of the heads watched the unicorn leave, then all fifteen focused on the four fighters, rearing back to striking positions, some of the mouths leaking smoke.

            "… How long do we have to hold this thing off, now?" Bill asked, holding his two short swords and not looking too sure of his odds.

            "I'd honestly say if I knew." Fox replied, eyes tracking as many heads at once as possible, then the group scattered as five of the heads lunged forward, another's mouth opening in a jet of smoky fire as the four fighters separated and went on the defensive, dodging and deflecting the tooth-filled maws away. Even with the knowledge that the heads grew back double, within minutes the number of smoke-snorting heads facing them had climbed to twenty, only one of the originals severed for good by Falco, and it was fairly clear that had been mostly luck.

            "Defense! Back off!" Fox shouted, and the group started backing up, gathering back together in a group. Even as they stood ready, he continued speaking. "This isn't working. It's clear Falco's sword does the most damage. Falco if we were able to hold a distraction well enough, could you get in close and deal more damage?"

            "Without getting my feathers burned off?" Falco demanded. "How can you flank something with twenty heads?"

            "Answer me. Could you deal more damage?"

            "I could certainly try."

            "We'll go with that then. Sound good?"

            "Do we have a choice?" Bill asked, having lost one of his swords. The hydra had eaten it.

            The group plunged back into combat, and as Falco managed to strike at close to the base of one of the necks, a flurry of arrows plunged into the one next to him, letting off frozen blue puffs as they landed. Recognizing Peppy's glyphs on the shafts, he smiled grimly and put all of his weight into the slashes.

            They had taken the number of heads down by half when the hydra stiffened, then with a weak cry collapsed to its side, going still.

            "I think this is yours." Tempest remarked to Bill, holding out an ichor-covered blade as the four regrouped.

            "Thanks so much." Bill made a face, but took the sword back anyway.

            "So sorry that took so long." Bendel walked up, hands clasped behind his back. Even as he spoke, the alarm scream dimmed as the magic shield around the school came back to life. "Well, that was quite the sortie…"

            Falco just growled at him, then said in a voice meant as indignant but coming out as grouchy, "I didn't see you helping."

            "Well, there aren't any gorgons left either." Was the dignified reply. "And the few at the infirmary that survived their rants are slowly calming as well." Now sorrow marked his voice. "We don't seem to have incurred any losses, but I attribute that to a good number of revival spells. The school seems secure."

            "I suppose the next step would be beating the truth out of Adkins, then." Bill said, wiping his sword on a corner of his tunic.

            "We are most certainly going to try." Said Bendel grimly.

            "Nothing, not for the last six hours." Peppy shook his head. "I'm willing to bet nothing for the next six as well."

            "Perhaps the more obvious questions should be asked, then." Fara proposed. "For example, what would a Gorgon want with the Morningstar school, and want it badly enough that he'd be willing to teach for five solid years, waiting for his cue?"

            "That isn't very long of a time period, for a covert soldier of any sort." Tempest remarked.

            "Regardless though, the question stands. What would he want with Morningstar?"

            "You're being specific, but I think you're following the wrong train of thought. Gorgons serve only Mormo, and what do all servants of Mormo want?"

            Everyone turned to Rita, who had been standing silently at window for some time now.

            "They want to resurrect their fallen patron. Bring Mormo herself back to life." She said in a grim voice. "Everything that attacked today was either a creature of Mormo or could be considered one indirectly."

            "What would they gain by trying to hurt clerics and Nomenclature adepts, though?" Falco wanted to know.

            "It all depends on who they consider their enemy." Elgar replied, having joined the group in the room they were waiting. "And the rest of Adkins' spell was rooted up. The part we found was only a small section of it. It's immense and must have taken fully two months of careful casting. It looks like it was meant to slowly cripple and eat away at Morningstar, hurt everyone here."

            "Again, what would the followers of Mormo gain by hurting this school?"

            "My best guess, considering the effort put into this, is a lot." Elgar said in a dry voice.

            Anubis came in. "Well, they searched his quarters, and after taking apart his bed found correspondence records." He flopped in a chair. "It's official. Mezobarlin is against us. He's been in contact with them since before this started."

            "Has anyone tried to contact them?"

            "Bendel is busy trying to scare information out of Adkins, and he's the one that would have to make the call." Anubis yawned. "Things have been more interesting since all of you arrived, but now, hell is breaking loose."

            "Not yet." Rita said, and didn't bother elaborating.

            "All right, if we're really going to analyze this, let's take it one step at a time." Said Fox in a deathly quiet voice. He was sitting against a wall, fingers pressed together and hair draped over his face, generally looking dangerous. His entire group recognized the tone and immediately shut up. Once this was accomplished, he stood very calmly, tying his hair back. "As a brief summation, Adkins is a Gorgon and under questioning. He was in contact with Mezobarlin with intent to harm this school, which he has succeeded in doing. All Gorgons are followers of Mormo, and all of their acts go toward resurrecting their fallen leader. Have I missed anything?"

            Mute headshakes.

            "All right then." He rubbed his chin. "So have we then concluded that Adkins was, in some odd way, trying to assist in the goal of his race?"

            "That could be assumed, I suppose." Peppy said, seeing where Fox was going with this.

            "And he was in contact with Mezobarlin." Fox stated. "Which means that Mezobarlin is trying to resurrect Mormo… or, at least, people there are trying to." He looked to Rita. "Just to make sure we all have the same information, could you give us a brush-up on Mormo?"

            "Mormo was one of the Titans of years past. She is the patron of witches and hags, and the mother of all serpentine races. Her body now lies strewn across the lands, always tainting what is near it."

            "Like the Hornsaw forests." Tempest inserted. No one argued; everyone had heard of the evil forest and its debased, carnivorous unicorns.

            "Exactly."

            "So she'd be considered an evil god." Said Julian.

            "No." Rita shook her head. "She was a Titan, not a god. The children of the Titans were gods."

            "And almost all of the Titans are dead. One still exists, I think, and that's Denev." Said Peppy. "The only Titan to side with the Gods in the Titans War."

            "That's correct." Rita looked at Fox. "And you've been saying that a holy war is on the way. Could this be one of the keys, perhaps? One of the main issues?"

            "Perhaps Hextor is looking for power players." Alan said with a straight face before Fox could answer, ignoring his leader's look. "Because I've been trying to think this through, and if I tallied the Parthenon of Gods correctly, Hextor and his allies are outnumbered two to one."

            Fox nodded agreement. "So, perhaps Hextor has struck a bargain of sorts: that if he can help resurrect her, she'll help him."

            "Do we really have enough information to blame this on an upcoming Holy War?" Slippy wanted to know, sitting on the ground with six books open around him. "Though it is true that the Gorgons wish their patroness resurrected, they're deeply engrained into human society. Perhaps Adkins got himself too deeply into something else for his own good?"

            "It's possible, but we won't know until we can get more information." Peppy spread his hands. "And regardless, something is going on in the Parthenon of Heaven, and it's not something minor."

            The cat faded in, minus the usual grin. "Bendel will be here in a few minutes. He thought you might like to know." And then, the cat faded out again.

            "Guess we'll know soon enough, if Bendel and the other high-rankers have been fortunate enough to get information from Adkins." Said Elgar. "Though, from the way cat was acting, I'd guess it wasn't an easy battle to do so."

            "Considering what I know about Gorgons, I am not surprised." Bill grumbled.

            Ten or so minutes later, Bendel puffed into existence in the middle of the room, a combination of anger and annoyance flashing over his face. He also looked extremely thoughtful.

            "Any luck?" Falco finally asked.

            Bendel startled, then came back in touch with reality, finding an empty chair and flopping down. "Surprisingly, yes. Sit down, all of you. This might take a while…"

            "It took us a while to get him to talk, but once we hit the right spot he crumbled like a house of cards. Unfortunately he seems to have lost most of his mind in the process, but it didn't hamper him spilling quite a bit of information.

            It would seem Adkins has been around longer then we thought. He's been through several identities, each one dedicated to some part of a large, convoluted plot to revive his fallen patroness Mormo. That's not surprising as he is a Gorgon, but he was taking what could be equated to brush-up courses at Mezobarlin when they approached him with the idea of being a plant here. The reasons were simple: he's got an honest face, and he plays a normal human very damn well. He accepted, of course, though he was a bit untrusting at first as Mezobarlin had just gotten involved with the plan to revive Mormo. They've proved as loyal an ally as the Gorgons have, if anything…

            It would seem that they targeted my school for one reason: Morningstar is a house of good and lawfulness. We stand for these ideas because we fight the stigmas put on magic users as being evil and cruel, so we teach that there are better ways. Mezobarlin doesn't agree of course, and never has ever since it was created. Every light has an accompanying darkness, but of recent we seem to have become seats in the debates of the gods, so it seemed natural to some of the more unfriendly ones to target my school for slow, decaying destruction. They were expecting us to notice, but they were not expecting us to find out so fast what was happening… or to track it back to its source.

            It doesn't seem that there are any more attacks planned against my school… or at least, direct attacks. The problem is this situation is degrading at a hideous rate, and it's going to keep hurting my school, even with the spell removed. A holy war is good for nobody.

            We brought you in, and I'm very aware that all of you are mortal, but is there anything that can be done about this? I am at my wit's end. 500 years of living has not prepared me for anything like this, and if my school comes to harm again, I'm fully planning on going after one of the gods themselves and giving them a talking to. That wouldn't be the best idea, so do you have any better?"

            There was a long moment of silence, then the entire group stared when Fox leaned back in his chair and laughed bitterly.

            "Blessed be. I hate being right."


	7. Chapter Seven: Blood At Sea

Section Seven: Blood at Sea

            Fara yawned widely and rubbed her eyes. No one in the party had gotten to go to bed yet. Over half of the classes at Morningstar had been cancelled to release their teachers for an all-out conference, and what had resulted now was a massive brainstorming/research mission in the library.

            Fox sat down next to her, and after a moment said, "They're not having too much luck."

            "What's the subject they're researching now?" She replied tiredly.

            "Well, since the general conclusion was that someone or something, whether it be a consortium of gods or something else, is now trying to restore Mormo, they're now looking up everything they can on the Titan's War, as well as casting speculation on whether or not anyone can do anything about it." He sank low in the chair he was in, rubbing tired, itching eyes, wondering how it was that magic users could go without sleep. He could, but not to this degree. "The problem is there are no accurate accounts of the Titan's War."

            "None?"

            "None. It was too long ago, so what little exists is legends, speculations. No accurate, factual reports."

            She winced. The group had had more then enough experience with that problem during their last quest. "So, what are they going to do?"

            "Keep looking. It's a big library, so I have no doubt that they will search every book." He shook his head, hefting himself to his feet, and after a moment stuck a pair of fingers in his mouth and whistled piercingly. This action was rewarded when the entire group of people in the library looked at him, most more then a little annoyed. He ignored the fact. "I am going to bed, and I release any of my people from your slavery to do the same." He announced in a loud voice. "If you find anything of interest, notify us in twelve hours." And with that, he helped Fara out of the chair and marched for the doors, group members straggling in behind him.

            "You know, most people wouldn't order around a magic school." Tempest remarked, not bothering to cover a yawn.

            "Most people haven't saved the world." Alan said. Fox only smiled.

            "Fearless leader! Wake up! I have an idea!"

            "Hn?" Fox opened one eye and focused it on Alan, who had let himself into the room. Fara also opened an eye as Fox sat up and fought the urge to glare, shaking himself awake. "All right, Alan. All right." He said resignedly. "Wait in the hall, will you please?"

            Five minutes later, both Fox and Fara had assembled themselves and had joined Alan, who was bouncing up and down in excitement. Not waiting for either to say anything, Alan ploughed into an explanation. "I'm sorry to wake you up, but you've gotten seven hours sleep and I had a sudden realization." Alan wove his arms around, gesturing as he spoke. "They want information on the Titan's War, right?"

            "Well, yes."

            "Lord Momus was alive during the Titan's War!"

            Fox blinked, processing this. "And you're certain this is fact?"

            Alan paused mid-bounce and looked at him. "Who argues with the Jack? He told me so once, and I know that my Lady the Demoiselle has been alive just as long. They witnessed the fall of the Titans."

            "Then why haven't they published accounts?"

            "Who is brave enough to ask them about it? Especially the Demoiselle, I mean, it's just improper to ask a Lady her age…"

            Fara grinned. "You are a genius, Alan."

            "You just noticed?" The bard wanted to know.

            "All right, Alan, you've got my permission to awake the others. We might as well give this suggestion to Bendel, so we've got to be informed first."

            Alan grinned and took off down the hall.

            "You believe him?" Fara finally asked, glancing at Fox.

            "I don't have a reason not to. Besides, the Jack of Tears is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar."

            The group looked around at each other, letting this bit of information sink in. They hadn't been awake too long, and were now in the main cafeteria of the school, most with some sort of food or drink at hand as they tried to fully wake up. No one was really surprised by this information of course—or at least not the ones that had met the Jack before. The Bayou was not a place where you asked questions often, it was just too dangerous for that.

            "Are you proposing we return to the Bayou?" Katt raised her eyebrows. "Or just try to contact the Jack?"

            Fox spread his hands. "I suppose it would depend on what Bendel thinks about this, but the Bayou is on the other side of the world, and it took us quite a while to get here. It'd probably be better to try to contact him."

            "Success rate: one in fifty." Slippy said, head resting on his folded arms, which were propped on the table. He hadn't woken up in the most cheerful mood. "We don't know if he has a mirror, he hasn't got one of our rings, and spells being cast in or in the direction of the Bayou have a large chance of going completely and utterly haywire."

            "And even if this school had a powerful enough adept to teleport us directly to the Bayou, there's a good chance the spell will miss simply because of magical properties of the Bayou." Said Rita.

            "So we know where information is, it'll just be utter hell to get to." Falco grumbled. "How completely typical."

            "Alan, is there any particular reason why the Bayou is so hard to contact?" Bill asked after a moment.

            "It has to do with the Titan's blood that saturates the area." Alan said, feeding Kagi bacon. "Everything there is just abnormal."

            "Present company included." Tempest smiled a bit.

            Alan grinned and didn't bother replying.

            "So, what, we wait for Bendel's approval before trying to figure out how to reach the Jack?" Katt asked.

            "That would probably be best. That way we don't waste any effort if he decides against it."  Said Peppy.

            "Get my approval on what?" Bendel asked, suddenly appearing, looking tired.

            The group shared a glance, then Fox wove at Alan. "Well, go ahead and explain, by all means."

            "The Jack of Tears." Said Anubis somewhat reverently, shaking his head. "You do have some interesting friends, Fox."

            "Allies." Fox corrected, looking at his map, which was floating in midair fully open, displaying a map of the world. As he manipulated the magic that made the map, two locations lit up: the Blood Bayou and Morningstar. Another twitch of his hands, and a line connected the two locations, then Elven writing started hovering in midair next to the map. "This is saying at least nine month's hard travel, out of range for a direct Lantern jump." He finally said, frowning as he read the writing. Tempest drifted over, also reading. After a moment the line realigned, now following a sea path. "It's shorter over water, but not all that safe either."

            "How much did this cost you?" Tempest asked, watching as the map shifted itself around.

            "Nothing, it was my father's. I imagine that it would cost quite a bit to have made, though."

            "Any thoughts, anyone?" Asked Bendel, having also moved to a spot where he could see the map. After a moment he gestured in the air, and a greatly enlarged projection of the map lit up most of a large wall, shifting with the map. "I really can't think of anything that I or my people could do, unless we can get in direct contact with the Jack, and that's next to impossible."

            "Well…" Alan shouldered in, chewing the end of a quill. "Enlarge the area around Morningstar, Fox." Fox shrugged and did, having the map move by degrees until Alan gestured that it was close enough. "How far to these costal cities?" He finally asked, pointing out the glowing dots and lettering that represented larger cities.

            "Five minutes of magic." Bendel replied. "Morningstar has set gates to the Lantern depots at a few of those cities. We provide them with simple defensive magic and thus forth, and they let our students and staff teleport in for breaks, shopping, trading, et cetera."

            "That's convenient… I wonder…"

            "Thinking a sea route would be best?" Anubis asked. "You should at least try to contact the Jack first, I think."

            "Yes and no." Alan finally replied, turning to Bendel. "So you have teachers and students going to these cities fairly regularly? How regularly?"

            "No set schedule, but more then weekly on average." He shrugged. "Why?"

            "What would it take for you to find out if a certain ship or party was in one of those cities?"

            "Bit of time and magic I guess, depends on the city. Bit of money, at most. The cities we've shook hands with don't tend to argue with us much."

            "All right then." Alan produced a piece of parchment and scribbled on it, then shoved it at Bendel. "Try to find out if these ships or people are in any of those towns right now or are expected to dock within a day."

            Bendel read the note, eyebrows lifting toward the ceiling, then disappeared in a puff of turquoise smoke.

            "Care to share your idea with the rest of us, Alan?" Fox asked after a moment.

            "The Blood Bayou has naval emissaries that visit costal cities around the world." Alan replied. "I don't know much about them, just the names of a few of the ships and Heron Priests… I don't associate with them much. But those boats are nowhere near normal, of course. If we're going to have to travel to the Blood Bayou, that will be the quickest way, I guarantee it."

            "Are you sure you are insane?" Fara grinned.

            "Insane and stable are two very different things." Was the wise reply.

            "The Scarlet Inferno is expected to come into dock in less then eight hours." Bendel said, a number of reports spread out in front of him from students and teachers he had recruited to look around. The students found it to be a gleeful assignment, the teachers bore it with resignation, being almost all of them were tired and burnt out. "Strange name for a boat." He noted.

            "This would be a galleon of the Bayou, what else would you expect?" Fara asked.

            "Point. Well, they passed the city's magical checkpoints about two hours ago, and at the reported clip they were at, they'll be docked by midnight tonight."

            "How exactly do the cities keep track of this stuff?" Falco wanted to know.

            "This particular city asks that galleons send notice before docking, and they have magical buoys that report when larger ships pass. It's something we set up for them." Said Elgar.

            "Makes perfect sense." Peppy grinned. "That practically negates a sea attack from any enemies. A huge fleet sets off alarms, right?"

            "Right, and it's convenient for commercial uses."

            "So, know anything about this boat?" Bendel glanced at Alan.

            Alan scratched his head. "Not really, to my knowledge it's a fairly typical setup, but I didn't talk to any of the bosuns much, so I may be wrong. None of the boats are set up for war, if that's what you mean, and nobody of extremely high rank should be aboard."

            "So how does this help us?" Slippy wanted to know.

            "Galleons of the Bayou can get anywhere from the Bayou in about a week, and the trips back are just as short. Everyone in the Bayou knows who Fox is, and knows of the fact that he's allied with the Jack. If we can find one of the Heron Priests, we can finagle a free ride to the Bayou. That is, if you don't mind a week on water." Said Alan.

            "No, that's significantly shorter then anything else." Said Fox. "So, is it confirmed then? We're going back to the Bayou?" He looked around at everyone.

            Nods all around.

            "I've been trying to get through to the Jack for the last six hours." Said Slippy. "We're not going to be able to contact him from a distance. If he has information, we're going to have to get it face to face."

            "All right then." Fox stretched and stood. "Bendel, can you get my party to this city first thing tomorrow morning?"

            "With ease. You won't mind if I tag along?"

            "No, you're welcome to." Fox assured him. "All right everyone, get some rest before tomorrow."

            Everyone nodded, and the party split up.

            "All right, so out of curiosity, why would the Blood Bayou send diplomats?" Julian asked. The group had just arrived at the city—Cerstunne—and were walking down the street.

            "Recruits." Alan replied, taking a drink, having already relieved a street vendor of a bottle of wine. "The Blood Bayou has a pretty high fatality rate, and to keep it running new people are always needed."

            "These new people are told nothing near the truth, I take it." Said Falco, looking around the city with a practiced eye.

            "They stretch it a bit." Alan admitted. "But if they didn't, few would go. The Heron Priests also hold embassy for the Jack, but besides that they don't do much."

            "Heron Priests." Bendel mused aloud. "Just how they sound, I take it? I don't believe I've met one…"

            "Just how they sound." Alan agreed, taking a look around. "Let's head toward the docks for now. They should be fairly easy to find, they dress brightly and are usually preaching."

            An hour later the party was still drifting about the busy docks, most with something to eat or drink that they had been goaded into buying by the vendors. They had found the ship, but its ramps had been partly pulled back, and its attendants (Bone Bosuns, according to Alan) didn't look all that pleasant or friendly. The boat itself looked barely able to float, let alone travel at the speeds Alan said it could. It was mostly dull white in color, apparently carved from bone and sun-bleached wood, and bobbed lazily in the water, brightly-colored flags flapping in the wind.

            "You sure they wouldn't be elsewhere in town?" Tempest asked Alan finally.

            "They have to pass by here fairly regularly, to show converts where the boat is." Alan replied, tossing the empty bottle away absently. Elsewhere in the crowd, someone squawked in pain, but Alan ignored the fact. "Plus, there are quite a few people here anyway. We'll find who we're looking for soon enough…" He suddenly trailed off, focusing elsewhere in the crowd, face changing, then lighting up in a grin of pure delight. "SASHIMA!" With that happy cry, he catapulted through the crowd and pounced on someone, knocking the figure down in the process. The crowd automatically cleared a space as the pair rolled, Alan ending up sitting on the new person's stomach, grinning the entire time.

            Fox and the others exchanged a look, and quickly caught up.

            "Alan Mangrove. How am I not surprised." Said the new figure, speaking for the first time. She was dressed in the gala of the Dark Carnival, face painted in a cheerful expression.

            "Sashima." His grin widened, which the crowd hadn't thought mortally possible. With that one word he leapt up and back, grabbed her hands, and pulled her up, dusting her off. "Good to see you." To accompany this, he grabbed her into a hug.

            Sashima, now trapped in the hug, looked at Fox and the others, rolled her eyes, and gave them an expression that plainly said, 'help me, please…'

            "Alan, I think you need to let her breathe." Falco remarked.

            "Oh, sorry!" He released her and repeated the dust-off.

            "Now that the greeting is over, why don't you introduce us?" Fox said, stepping forward.

            "Ah of course. This is Sashima, she's a Dark Harlequin, one of the Jack's direct servants. Sashima, this is Fox McCloud, or Ivellios Siannodel, it depends who you ask. I'm sure you know of him."

            "Heard much, I'm charmed." She held out a hand clad in a white glove.

            He bowed, taking it respectfully, and was jolted by a sudden burst of merriment. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the ground, blinking up at everyone else, giddy. "What was that pray tell?"

            "I apologize. I sometimes forget not to do that. I am a Harlequin, Sir McCloud." She held up the hand in the white glove. "Touch of Joy." She lifted the hand in the red glove. "Touch of Pain."

            "Oh, I see." He stood with effort, shaking off, shooting a look at Falco as the thief muffled a snicker. "Please refrain from doing that from now on."

            "But of course." She took the entire group in. "My, what a pack. Staying at a local inn?"

            "Not exactly, we're here from Morningstar, so we're staying there for the time being." Fox finally said. "I take that you and your… friends are staying at an inn, I imagine?"

            "Perceptive. Yes, I am currently traveling with the Herons." She smiled. "But we are staying on our boat, in the few hours we are not traveling the streets."

            "Ah."

            She turned to Alan. "So, now that the niceties are over… was there actually a reason that you tackled me?"

            He grinned. "No. We need a favor from the Herons, though." He gestured to show that 'we' included the entire group.

            "Oh really?" She lifted a colorful eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"

            "We need transportation back to the Bayou."

            "Well I should think that's doable, I doubt that the Herons would argue." She glanced at Fox. "I'll speak to them about it…" Someone called her name from a distance, and she sighed. "Speaking of such, I must return to work. Why I have been put on guard duty…" And with that she disappeared into the crowd, after affectionately cuffing Alan on the shoulder with the white-gloved hand.

            "Do we want to know, Alan?" Falco asked rather pointedly, looking at who he was speaking to, who was giggling giddily.

            "What? What? What do you speak of? What?" Alan said, ceasing his giggles and grinning.

            "Right."

            "I should return to the school." Bendel said after a moment, toting a seemingly heavy bag. He had been running errands during the last hour, of what kind the group had failed to notice. "Inform me of the plan before you leave, all right?" After Fox nodded, he disappeared in a puff of silvered smoke.

            The Herons turned out to be more then happy to transport the group back to the Bayou, though they said they weren't leaving for two days. It was fairly clear their motives weren't completely selfless, though—one of the four Herons gleefully remarked that having such a hero traveling with them just might bring their number of recruits up.

            Peppy and Katt returned to Morningstar to explain to Bendel what was going on, and came back with the report that Bendel was fine with it, though he insisted that they have the Jack set up a solid mirror for communication once they got there, which Fox agreed was a very good idea. Bendel had also called into one of the local inns, so the group apparently had rooms until they left, and as Morningstar currently didn't need them on site, Fox let everyone do as they see fit, providing they stayed out of trouble. Which, of course, was easier for some then others.

            Alan sighed, kicking a foot back and forth, staring out toward the water. He was perched on the railing of his room's balcony. It was late, and a bone-gnawing exhaustion was beginning to creep through him. He ignored it though, unwilling to go to bed, mind wandering as he took a drink from his flask.

            Why was Sashima assigned to guard duty for the Heron Priests? He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. Not that he was going to deny that he had been happy to see her, but it twisted a few old knives that were driven in his side, and he was tired.

            He didn't get tired, typically. He just DIDN'T. He normally slept maybe eight hours out of a week, fueled by the taint of the Bayou. But now, he was tired. And he knew why…

            Behind him, he heard the room door crack open, and looked over his shoulder. "Come on in, Peppy."

            "Everyone was wondering where you had happened off to." Peppy remarked, walking across the room to join him on the balcony. "No one thought to check your room, though." He leaned on the railing, eyeing the bard. "What's wrong?"

            "What do you mean?" He took another drink, still staring out moodily toward the water.

            "You aren't smiling. You're avoiding the happy crowds in the taverns and so on. That isn't exactly normal for you Alan." Peppy looked him in the eye. "And you may be able to fool everyone else into thinking you're all right, but you can't fool me."

            Alan laughed to himself. "We all have our reasons for everything, Peppy."

            "Then what is your reason for being depressed?"

            "I'm never depressed." He pointed out. "Well, when Fox's life was in danger on our last quest, I suppose I was, but besides that… I am always happy, Peppy. People do not understand that."

            "Are you really happy right now?" Peppy asked quietly.

            "In a quiet way, yes, but it is a… painful happiness." Alan worked out the phrasing with difficulty, a strange smile warping his face.

            "Do you want to talk about it?"

            "I do not think I need to." 

            "Sashima."

            "Yes."

            There was a long silence during which Alan knocked back the remainder of what was in his flask and tucked it back inside an inner vest pocket, hugging himself.

            "Beauty masked, painted over. Outer finery, hiding inner beauty." He spoke the lines very slowly, eyes half closed, as if hearing an orchestra. "Danger, shrouded by the smile of an angel. She lives not for life, she seems not to live." He dropped his head, shoulders sagging, smile leaving. "She does not know I live for her."

            Peppy was silent.

            "Evil is just that, Peppy. It makes you blind to your heart. I know this. I live surrounded by it, but I am not it. Do I make sense? No matter. Evil makes you blind, Peppy. It makes you blind and deaf. I think she knows something at least, but she can't understand how I feel. She lives for her Lord, and I am not he." Alan smiled, but it was painful, twisted. "Touch of pain and touch of joy. Both at once, every time I see her."

            "Oh, Alan…"

            "Do not feel sorry for me Peppy. I am of the Bayou. I am lucky to live this long. I do not know when I will die, though I am sure it will probably be soon." Ignoring Peppy's alarmed look, he continued, staring into the distance. "But I would very much like it to be in her arms. I only wish she could understand. But she can not. And that is the end of this tale." And with that he hopped off the railing and started to return inside.

            "Do you really believe that, Alan?" Peppy asked, watching him leave. "You've traveled with us quite a bit, and you believe that love will find a way. You've said so, many times, during our last quest in particular. You seem very much a believer in 'happy endings,' as you term them."

            Alan stopped and looked over his shoulder, his smile turning very sad. "Peppy, do you know how old I am?"

            "I thought you didn't even know."

            "I am fifty-eight."

            Peppy's jaw dropped.

            "Oh, I know. I seem in my early twenties at most. I don't age. I haven't since I moved to the Bayou, but every time we travel, I feel it. I feel myself age, Peppy. There are no real outward signs of it, but I feel it in my heart." Alan's shoulders sagged. "And it will someday soon kill me. I'm tired, Peppy. I never get tired. I'm dying. There is no happy ending for me."

            Peppy's hand landed on his shoulder, a solid, reassuring pressure. Alan looked at him in surprise, even more so when he saw Peppy's gentle, stern look.

            "We need to talk." Peppy said very quietly. "If anything, so you can loose all the weight on your shoulders."

            "Ahem."

            Fox and the others glanced up, blinking at how tired Peppy looked as he walked over to the table in the tavern that the group had commandeered. Breakfast had just been served. "Morning, Peppy. Where's Alan?"

            "He's taking the day off." Peppy sat heavily, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Or at least I told him to. Whether or not he'll listen to me, I really don't know."

            "How can he take a day off if he's never worked a day in his life?" Falco wanted to know, then blanched when Peppy threw him a dark look. "What?"

            There was a long silence before Peppy spoke again. "I have some rather disturbing news." When the group stayed silent, he continued. "Last night I took it upon myself to track Alan down. He was hiding in his room. It seems that he had reason to." He paused. "Apparently, he's dying."

            "WHAT?!"

            "He's over a decade older then I am, and being away from what's kept him healthy all this time—namely, the Bayou and the blood of Kadum—taxes him in more ways then we could imagine. In fact, it's starting to kill him."

            There was a long silence. Fox had pulled into himself since Peppy had first said, but now looked up, sad and troubled. "What can we do to help?"

            "I'm not sure we can." Peppy admitted. "I talked to him for quite a while. He's just wearing out. We're already going to be doing what's best, namely heading back to the bayou for a while. The thing is, he isn't willing to stay there once we've found out what we need. He wants to stay with the group."

            "It's still going to be over a week until we reach the bayou." Katt shook her head. "Would any sort of spell help support him until then?"

            "I don't know, and it's probably best if you didn't try. He doesn't want to be treated like an invalid. In fact, I suggest that none of you mention this. Except you, Fox, you might be able to get away with it. After all, you are the 'fearless leader.'"

            Fox only smiled sourly. "We're still set to leave tomorrow, right?"

            "As far as I know."

            From then on, breakfast was eaten in silence.

            Sashima leaned back against the railing of the ship, watching as the group came aboard the ship, their horses already stowed below. Most of them seemed a bit uneasy, as if not sure about the Scarlet Inferno's seaworthiness. Given, the ship looked battered and strangely put together, but that was not the case of course.

            "So you're our guests?"

            Fox blinked as one of the bosuns swung down the rope ladders and landed in front of them. He looked different then the other bosuns, though—namely, he was larger, almost double the size of his comrades, and his clothing was a bit more whole. "That would be us. Should I suppose that you're in charge?"

            "Yes indeed." The bosun preened an antenna absently. "I'm the captain. Call me Scarface, everyone else does who cares for names. Don't bother talking to my friends, though." He pointed the antenna at the other bosuns absently, which were preparing for launch. "Or at least, don't expect an answer, they're the quiet sort. Your steeds have been secured in our stable area on the third deck. You'll be in cabins on the first deck…" He paused, eying the group, which now numbered twelve as Elgar was accompanying them. "Will it be a problem for you to be two to a room?"

            "That should be fine." Fox assured him.

            "Good, then." He looked at Alan. "I know you."

            Alan grinned. "Morning, Scarface."

            "Don't jinx the day by calling it good, we're hoping for clear skies, it'll cut half a day off our travels." He turned back to Fox. "We'll be leaving within the hour. Do you have everything you need?"

            "Yes indeed."

            "Good."

            "… It's intriguing, really." Slippy said as he sketched the boat absently, scribbling notes to himself. "It seems that all of the vessels of the bayou are high-class artifacts. Without the magic imbuing them, they'd sink in moments."

            "That does wonders to comfort me, Slip." Falco mumbled, leaning on the railing, looking rather green. The Inferno moved too fast to rock, really, but he still wasn't feeling all that steady.

            "No, the magic is part of the ship. No amount of spells could remove the enchantments; it would have to be done by the maker." He considered the picture. "And part of the magic is allowing the ship to hold a lot more then it looks like it should be able to. For the size, this boat is carrying about five times the weight it should be able to, and yet is hitting speeds five to six times then most larger ships do." He looked up at the full sails, watching the bosuns. "Interesting setup, really."

            "And you're trying to figure it out so you can make money on it, right?"

            Slippy grinned crookedly. "I'm a gadget master. It's what I do best."

            "Besides blowing up your father's blacksmith shop?"

            Any reply Slippy would have made was interrupted by a rising commotion from the other end of the boat. The cargo bay doors were open, and the bosuns were making bewildered noises, scrambling up the ramp to get out of the way of something.

            "AIIYEEE! I can't take it any longer!"

            There was the hollow noise of wood against wood, and a barrel somehow rolled up the cargo ramp, ricocheted off one of the masts, and went into a tailspin, ending up on one end. It held still a moment, then rocked energetically and started bouncing down the deck, passing by Slippy and Falco, screaming "Let me out!" in a high, squeaky voice.

            Slippy and Falco looked at each other a moment, then Falco said, "Did you see that, or was it just my hangover?"

            "Bouncing barrel?"

            "Yeah."

            "No, I saw it too."

            The barrel ran into one of the masts, bounced in place for a few moments, then tipped over and started rolling again, still yelping at the top of its lungs. By now, it had attracted the attention of everyone on deck, including Scarface, who watched for a moment then returned to what he was doing. Business as usual on a ship of the bayou.

            Eventually the barrel rolled in the direction of Tempest, who stopped it with his foot, maneuvering it so it was trapped between the railing and him. This sparked even louder protests from the barrel as he turned and looked at Fox, who had been watching this whole scene with amusement. "What do you think?"

            "I'm not sure I want to know." Fox responded honestly. 

"Leave him in there." Alan advised as he wandered up. The barrel, hearing this, started screaming even louder.

            "You know who this is?" Tempest asked.

            "Yes, and I would rather face an army then deal with him."

            "LET ME OUT!" The barrel yelled in a piercing staccato, bouncing on the word 'out.'

            "I think whoever this is will deafen the entire boat if we don't do something." 

            "Silence spell." Alan advised with a sour smile.

            The trio was quiet for a moment. The barrel started bouncing in a steady rhythm; Tempest put his weight into keeping the thing trapped.

            "Eh, what the hell." Tempest finally said, pulling his sword and eyeing the barrel.

            "Go ahead, don't listen to me." Alan shook his head, and promptly disappeared from the area.

            After a moment, Tempest wedged the sword blade into the barrel and levered off one of the ends. The barrel promptly ceased moving, and a small form shot out like a firework, cornered off two of the masts, and hit Tempest square in the chest with enough momentum that Tempest promptly sat down.

            "Thankyouthankyouthankyou…"

            Fox watched, amused, as Tempest peeled off the small form, which happened to be a somewhat undersized kobold. His efforts were in vain; the minute he let go the kobold was promptly back where he had been. After a few minutes this issue was solved, but only because Tempest was holding the kobold under the armpits at arm's length.

            "Who are you, and why exactly were you in a barrel?" Tempest asked once the kobold had shut up.

            The kobold responded by making a small series of noises and swatting the air.

            "Fox, could you translate that?"

            "I don't speak kobold."

            "Neither do I." He shook the kobold a few times, who yipped but didn't seem bothered otherwise. "Try again. English this time."

            "That is my name!" The kobold protested, then repeated the earlier series of noises and motion.

            "Maybe I should have left you in the barrel."

            Slippy and Falco, having been watching this from a distance, joined them. "Why exactly was the kobold in the barrel?" Slippy wanted to know.

            "That's what I'm trying to find out, but I can't even get his name out of him."

            "I TOLD you my name!" The kobold yelled.

            "Care to say it again?" Falco asked. The kobold again went through the routine. "Yipsnarl Fleaswat." He translated. Fox, Slippy, and Tempest looked at him. "Hey, I run a thieves' guild. You'd be surprised who turns up who happens to be a member, and it helps when you speak the lingo." He looked back at Yipsnarl. "So. Why were you in the barrel?"

            "I'm an agent of the Jack." The kobold dusted himself off once Tempest had set him down. He was even smaller then the bosuns.

            "Which has what to do with the barrel?"

            "He wanted me to be inconspicuous."

            "All respect, but you're about as inconspicuous as an erupting volcano." Slippy remarked.

            Yipsnarl ignored this. "Where's Alan? I heard him."

            "He left. Apparently he didn't want to deal with you." Tempest replied.

            "Eh, he's just kidding. I'll find him." And with that, he was gone.

            The four looked at each other. "Why would the Jack have a spy on board?" Falco finally asked.

            "I don't want to know." Fox decided, and the others agreed.

            The next few days passed uneventfully, until the morning of the forth day.

            Fox woke up because he very suddenly fell out of bed. The Scarlet Inferno, which normally rocked only slightly because of the speeds it traveled at and some magic, now had a steady rock which had caused him to roll out of bed. After staggering to his feet with a grumble, he noticed something else—the Inferno wasn't moving. At all. After waking up Fara, he shrugged into a tunic and went up to the ship's main deck. The sails were closed, the rocking the only motion the boat was making. No land was in sight. The ship's crew was silently gathered toward the bow of the ship, looking at something ahead, but got out of the way for him.

            "Morning." Scarface remarked over his shoulder, staring out over the water.

            "What's the problem?" Fox asked, hearing other members of his group arrive on deck, having apparently suffered similarly or woken up on their own.

            "That." Scarface said flatly, pointing out ahead of the ship.

            He looked automatically, and it took him several moments to realize what Scarface was indicating. About fifty feet in front of the boat, the water was blood red in a ribbon about twenty feet wide and stretching out to the horizon in either direction.

            "That is the Scarlet Tide." Said Scarface grimly. "We can't risk going through it: it's got us cut off. It'll add a week to our travel time trying to around it… if it's possible at all."

            "Enlighten me. Why can't this ship go through it? Isn't it still the blood of Kadum?" Falco asked, arriving next to Fox, still straightening his tunic.

            "Yes, but the trouble lies within it. That tide houses Blood Barnicles, and they aren't picky. They'll latch onto the ship, even if it is a vessel of the Bayou, and once they do, they'll be able to drive everyone on board into a blood rage. Even my crew." He shook his head wearily, then snapped his head up when the Bosun in the crow's nest started crying out strangely; long, harsh calls. Moments later the other bosuns started joining in, all looking in one direction. "Have you brought bad luck upon my boat?" Scarface moaned, looking at Fox's group, which had gathered. "Our situation has just gotten much, much worse." With that he shoved by, chattering up at the Bosun in the crow's nest, listening to replies.

            "What is going on?" Tempest wanted to know.

            "I don't know." Fox replied flatly, and caught up with Scarface. "What is going on? Why do you think we are bad luck?"

            Scarface was at the wheel of the ship, looking at a magical readout that hung in the air in front of him. "Bad enough that we've come across the Scarlet Tide and been cut off by it, which hasn't happened to a Bayou vessel in six years." He replied, distracted. "The Scarlet Tide carries other things with it other then the barnacles, Fox. Worse things."

            "Blood pirates." Said Alan. "You're talking about Blood pirates."

            "You bet your musical ass I'm talking about blood pirates." Snapped Scarface, waving away the magical display. "My brethren can fight, but we've got too many civilians on board to really risk it. The herons won't help, either." He preened his antennae nervously, then cried out to the one in the crow's nest and listened to the reply. After a long silent moment, he looked to Fox, not happy. "I've got a few choices to make, and you're my guest of honor and an experienced fighter, so you're the deciding factor." He pointed in a direction, where ships could be seen charging in from the horizon. "Three blood pirate ships are coming at us, and they'll be on us in five minutes. We do move faster then them, but we've barely got room to turn and run without hitting the Tide… and if we turn, the wind will not be with us, and they'll inevitably catch up. We can't move forward, which is really the only direction to move if we want to use the wind effectively, but if we wait here motionless they'll surround us." Scarface was silent a moment, then brought up the display again, and winced. "No help is within range, and worse, one of my fellow ships is only behind us by about a day, and she's not as well armed as my Inferno is. She'll be done for if the pirates catch her, and the Jack will have someone's hide over it."

            "Then we fight." Said Fox after a moment. "These blood pirates sound like they do no one good, and if that's the case, the world is better off with out them."

            "I share your opinion, but I'm trapped, movement wise… unless I turn the Inferno, and if I do, we'll be greatly slowed." Scarface sighed.

            "I can get you over the Tide." Said Rita after a moment. "Would that help?"

            Scarface looked at her, then slowly grinned. "That would help enormously. And with the wind at our back, we'll be able to outmaneuver them. So we're going to war then?" He looked to Fox, who nodded. "Wonderful. We haven't had a good scrap in ages…" He threw back his head and shouted at the top of his lungs in the Bosun's language. They stopped to listen, then whooped and dispersed, grabbing weapons and taking battle stations, a good portion running below deck. Thumps resounded through the hull of the ship, and those who leaned over the rail and looked at the sides of the ship saw cannon ports banging open in the ship's hull. 

            "I was under the impression that vessels of the Bayou weren't armed." Peppy remarked.

            "Why should we tell everyone we carry enough cannons to shred a navy ship? That would make it rather hard to get into a port, don't you think?" Scarface grinned, then looked to Rita. "Whatever you're doing, you should do it fast. Tell me when to open the sails." Rita nodded, going to the bow of the ship and starting a spell as he turned to the others. "Well, get your weapons and get ready. This should be interesting."

            The group did so, and as they gathered back on the deck moments later, Rita shouted over her shoulder for Scarface to open the sails—all of them. Scarface obeyed, yelling the command to the bosuns as he reactivated the magic, and the ship jerked forward, plowing toward the pirates and the Tide. As it reached the current of red, though, the entire ship lifted out of the water, splashing back to a landing after it was safely across. The pirate ships, nearly on top of the Inferno, slowed as they turned to follow, and moments later cannon fire started whistling by. In response, Scarface slowed the ship and started turning, letting his own cannons draw bead. The crew managing the cannons took action, the deck shaking with the percussions of the cannons as soon as the pirate ships were in sight.

            "How long before they're able to board us?" Fox asked quietly, lining up arrows to his bow and tracking one of the ships, watching for movement. The others with bows were doing the same.

            "Two minutes tops." Peppy replied, eyes narrowed as he watched the lead pirate ship, bow tracking and arrows glowing. "Scarface is letting them get close on purpose, I think."

            As if cued, the cannons on the far side of the Inferno started letting loose. One of the pirate ships had circled around; the Inferno was being boxed in. Fox didn't wait for any other cues, he fired, and those who also had distance weapons also opened fire. Cannon smoke clouded the air, and a series of horrid crashing noises resounded through the air as some of the pirate's shots found their mark, forcing their way through the combined bone and bleached wood of the Bayou ship. Scarface screeched in anger and spun the wheel, sending the Bayou ship plowing straight for one of the pirate vessels.

            The collision rocked both boats, but it was the Bayou ship that was more prepared for it. Bone spikes had grown from the nose of the ship, and had driven into the side of the pirate boat, locking the two boats together. Zombies leapt off the ailing pirate ship and were met by the bosuns, then by members of Fox's group. Chaos broke out across the deck as Scarface strained to turn the Inferno, still interlocked with the pirate ship. 

            Sashima, who had been on deck when the Tide had first been noticed, watched Fox's group fight for a moment, then yelled over her shoulder and led a group of the bosuns off the Inferno and onto the pirate ship as the hulls of the two boats ground together, the Inferno driving itself deeper into the side of the enemy vessel. The rotting wooden planks of the ship started to buckle as the bosuns charged across the cracking deck of the ship, leaving dismembered zombies in their wake. Sashima was still in lead, casting spells constantly to assist her small allies in their fight.

            The Inferno gave one last heave, and the zombie ship gave with a rough, ear-splitting crack, the masts falling, taking out both zombies and bosuns as the two halves of the boat began to sink, decks breaking apart and sending those remaining scrambling for handholds as they slid toward the water. Sashima needed no prompting, yelling again to what remained of the bosuns and running for the Inferno as the half she was on continued to plunge toward the water, leaping to grab the railing.

            Her hand instead was caught by another, strong fingers wrapping around her wrist and holding tight. She returned the hold automatically, blinking up at who had grabbed her. Alan grinned back at her, other arm wrapped into a rope he had cut free from one of the Inferno's masts, easily dangling in midair and holding her bodyweight as if it was nothing.

            "I wasn't going to let you fall." He remarked.

            "It's appreciated." She replied, looking down at the debris-ridden, churning sea.

            He grinned again, swung his bodyweight, and landed both of them in the middle of the fight on the deck of the Inferno, easily cutting a path for himself through what remained of the zombies as the ship swung back around, plowing into the last and smallest of the three enemies and sinking the ship on impact.

            Silence descended on the Inferno as the ship slowed to a halt, cannon smoke clearing. Around the ship, the sea slowly calmed, littered with pieces from the three shattered pirate ships. After many long moments, the bosuns lifted chattering victory cries, a few cannons firing last shots as celebration.

            "Not bad at all." Scarface remarked, approaching Fox's group, carrying a two-bladed sword. "If you hadn't been here, we probably would have been overrun."

            "Speaking of which, what was the idea of charging those ships?" Falco exploded, tossing a blood-and-brine soaked tunic overboard in distaste and shaking off his sword, which was faintly smoking.

            "Last-ditch Bayou tactic, part of the magic of the ships." He replied with a grim smile. "Navy ships used to be fond of boxing a Bayou vessel in and taking it out, so we made sure that couldn't happen in most cases. The larger Bayou ships can go right through a navy freighter if they have enough speed up."

            "I take it that doesn't happen often." Fox remarked, working a cleaning/purging spell with Rita to clean the blood and zombie parts off the deck. Slippy had wanted to help, but the smell of rotting flesh had him hanging his head over the ship railing, waiting for the waves of nausea to pass.

            Now Scarface grinned in earnest. "Not anymore."

            Alan sighed, drawing his legs up to his chest and staring out over the water, setting his chin on his knees, balanced on a crossbar of the main mast. The Inferno had spent most of the day motionless once they had moved to clear water, slight shimmers passing over the hull as the ship slowly regenerated, sealing over the holes that had been made in the top two levels of the ship. During that time, their sister ship the BloodHawke had happened by, and now both ships were in motion, pacing each other back to the Bayou, alert for any sort of trouble.

            He huffed out a sigh, feeling the hollow ache in his chest. Part of him was almost relieved to return to the Bayou. This way he could recover somewhat, let the blood of Kadum heal him as best it could. In a way, he hated it. Hated it with a passion… He wasn't sure anymore what had made him decide to join the Bayou and give up his once much-loved humanity. But then, it had been humanity which had loathed him his entire life…

            Kaji mewled, and Alan glanced down the long drop to the deck. Sashima was there now, sitting on the stairs that led up the wheel, staring out to the water. "Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't sleep." He sighed to his familiar, looking down at her and feeling the ache in his chest grow. In response, the kitten mewled again, rubbing its cheek against his cheekbone. "No. I can't do it." He finally said. "I can't, Kaji. There isn't much of a point. Even if Peppy suggested it…" He trailed off, still watching her. "Damn it. All gods damn it." He finally snarled to himself. "I have to." With that he stood, grabbing a rope and sliding down to the deck, walking over, fast at first, then slowing, feeling fear grow. "…Sashima?"

            She almost startled, then stopped herself, looking up. "Alan. What brings you here?"

            He swallowed and forced the words out. "I… I need to talk to you…"

            "So talk." She wove him to sit next to her on the step, and he did so. She looked at him for a moment, then blinked. "Where is your smile?"

            He looked at her. "Where is yours?"

            She touched her face, then laughed softly. She had taken off the paint, leaving only her normal fur color. "I suppose I look odd without it don't I?"

            "No, you don't." He shook his head. "You look… you look alive. Beautiful."

            "I suppose I should thank you." She smiled a touch. "So I answered your question, now answer mine. I've never seen you serious before. Never. And I've known you since I first came to the Bayou."

            He was silent for a moment, not looking at her, then said suddenly, "Sashima, do you know what love is?"

            She stared at him. "Of course I do."

            "Do you really? Do you really understand what it is?" He carefully looked away from her.

            She continued her stare, uncomprehending. "I… I don't understand why you would ask me such a thing. I am but a Harlequin, a servant of the Jack, not a… poet and musician such as yourself."

            "Yes, yes you are a Harlequin. Unfortunately that is all you are." A resentful note crept into his voice as he stood and went to the railing of the boat, hugging himself.

            She was silent for a moment, watching him. "Do you hate me?"

            That sparked a bitter laugh from his chest. "I wish I could, Sashima. I wish that I could quite often, and when I do not wish that, I wish that you could love."

            "You love me?"

            "I always have, since I saw you. The heart, he makes the own rules, you know?"

            "No, I don't."

            He pounded a fist into the railing hard enough to make his hand bleed and the railing creek in warning. "Of course you don't." He said in a tight voice, looking up at the stars. "Olidammara, are you in need of a bard in your court? I think this one is more then ready."

            "No, Alan, you are not." She stated, standing and joining him.

            He turned his gaze to her. "What do you know?" He asked simply. "Not your heart. You forsook that, you forsook that the minute you delighted in pain and death, Sashima, the minute you bathed in evil and reveled in it."

            She stared up at him, arms folded, and dropped her head. "I wish I could understand you, Alan."

            "You are not alone in that wish." He sighed. Both were silent, then he suddenly said, "What were you before?"

            "I was nobody." Was the flat reply. "I was but a street urchin, a hungry pick-pocketing thief whose humor cut sharper then razors. The Jack found me by chance on his travels and took me in."

            "That is hardly nobody, Sashima. That is yourself."

            She kicked a support banister. "Talk sense!"

            "I am!" He replied, waving his arms in frustration. "You just do not understand!"

            There was another very long moment of silence, during which a few of the bone bosuns paced by absently, finding more comfortable perches, obviously not caring about the pair arguing on the deck.

            "Why did you come talk to me Alan? This seems rather unlike you."

            "I may not look it, but I am old, and I am weary of heart. I love traveling with Fox's party, but I feel the years, and it makes me ache." He huffed out a sigh, closing his eyes. "I guess I wanted to try to make you understand before my years took their toll."

            She watched, and gasped when she saw the tear running down his cheek. Alan, crying. Even to her, it seemed a bitter, cruel thing. "Are you… are you dying?" A strange word in the Bayou, where almost all were either dead or could never die.

            "Yes, I am. Slowly, very slowly, but I am." He didn't open his eyes, voice tight, another tear slowly dripping. "This bard is weary and full of heartache, Sashima."

            She slowly reached up and brushed away his tears, feeling painfully awkward. "I… I want to help you. I don't know why, but I do."

            Lifting a hand to hold hers against his cheek, he opened eyes, baring his soul. "Perhaps you would know if you would just listen."

            Silence fell again.

            "You want me to love you, don't you?" She finally asked.

"Well, that'd be nice." He replied somewhat drolly.

"I cannot forsake my title and life, Alan." She shook her head slowly. "And love isn't part of my title."

            "Then just forsake evil."

            "But that is my life."

            "It is not mine."

            "I am not you."

            "You need not be. The Jack hardly requires you be evil."

            "I cannot be good."

            "So, be neutral. Do as you like. That is what I do."

            She pulled her hand away and stepped back, mind spinning. "You confuse me."

            That drew a bitter laugh from his chest. "I am insane. I am not meant to make sense."

            She looked at him, and shook her head. "No, Alan, you are the sanest person I know. But I cannot simply stop being who I am."

            Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her back to the railing, making her look at her reflection in the water. "Who are you, Sashima? Are you who is looking back at you, or need you paint and orders?"

            She tried to struggle, but no matter how much she did, no matter how much pain she inflicted with her touch, he retained his hold. She went limp slowly, looking at her reflection, and dropped her head.

            He let her go and let her cry, making himself not hold her. "Who are you, Sashima? Are you who I think you are? Are you who I've grown to love? Or are you just a puppet of the Jack?"

            She stared at him, shaking. "I don't know anymore."

            "Then let me help you find out. Please." He pleaded. "Even the Jack understands love, Sashima. I do not believe he would be angry for you trying to find yourself."

            She wrapped her arms around herself and cried bitterly. "You're cruel, Alan."

            "I'm truthful, Sashima, and the truth can be cruel." He replied, voice very gentle. "And I am only letting it be cruel because I do not know what to do. A lady cries in front of me, but dare I comfort her?"

            She looked at him, somehow angry. "Please dare."

            "Well, then."

            "What?"

            Scarface sighed, fidgeting with one of his antennae. "We're diverting course. I know you've got to get to the Bayou, but we've got something to do before we head for home port."

            The Inferno and the BloodHawke were bobbing side by side in the ocean, lashed together for the time being to allow crewmembers to cross back and forth. The Herons had gathered in a pack to talk, as had the recent converts. The rest of Fox's group was in assorted places, but Scarface had pulled Fox aside for a moment to speak with him and the captain of the BloodHawke, another male bosun nicknamed Peg-leg.

            "We haven't let on to the Herons yet, but one of our brethren has been trapped in port and is being held there by navy vessels." Peg-leg said. "And it gets worse. In the fight before the capture, the captain was killed. Even if the ship could get free, none of the magic is active."

            "The crew is being held in the brig of one of the navy ships. They've got until sunrise tomorrow, then all of them die. The converts are being held in a prison in the port city." Scarface huffed.

            "So you've been told to go break your sister ship out of imprisonment, as well as her crew and if possible the converts." Fox said slowly.

            "Right. There's only two navy ships holding the Tornado, but we're going to have to tow the Tornado out of port."

            Fox didn't like this at all. "Let me talk to my group, all right?"

            Both captains nodded.

            "Let me get this straight. Both ships are diverting off course to save one of their own?" Peppy rubbed his chin.

            "That's the long and short of it, and it looks as though we don't have a say in the matter." Fox replied. "They didn't say what kingdom was holding the ship, but I'm not sure if it matters. I don't like the idea of assisting in this. We'd be going up against a human military, not undead."

            "Do we have a choice?" Bill wanted to know. "Either way, when the attack happens, we're going to be aboard."

            "But if we ask to be taken ashore, we loose our ride, and we're only halfway there." Falco shook his head. "Do we have time to delay?"

            "I'm not sure if we'll be able to be taken ashore." Said Tempest. "Think about it. The military of the kingdom is holding a vessel of the Bayou for whatever reason. What makes you think they're going to let two other armed Bayou ships anywhere near port?"

            "They won't." Bill shook his head. "I speak from experience. I can see why they captured it in the first place. Just look at where the ship is from: an area of death, plague, and decadence. Why would you want that in your city? Why would you let it take your citizens?"

            "Given." Fox said. "That said, if this whole mission fails and we end up captured, we'll be charged with abetting."

            "Can't have you scarring your good image, can we?" Falco snorted, and shriveled when he saw the look he got from Fox.

            "Do you want to be in the stocks for a week?" Bill shot at him. "If the laws are anything like in the Phoenix kingdom, that might be what happens if we're found to be part of this whole mess."

            "It's known I'm allies with the Jack, but assisting on a raid against a kingdom is an entirely different thing." Fox shook his head.

            There was a long silence.

            "Do we have a choice? I don't like this more then anyone else does, but there's an entire ship's crew that's going to die in 16 hours if they're not helped. And I don't know about you guys, but I don't need their deaths on my conscience." Slippy shook his head. "Besides, I kind of like the bosuns…"

            "What if this whole mess could be carried out non-lethally?" Katt proposed after a moment, rubbing her chin. "Four of us here are magic users, and so are the herons. If we knock the crews of the navy ships out, we'll be able to get in and out unnoticed."

            "That's magic of some degree… two entire crews…" Said Elgar, frowning to himself. "But… it's doable…"

            "So we're assisting then?" Fara asked.

            "I'm not sure we have a choice." Fox said after a long moment. "I hate it, but I can't see any better way. And if we can prevent death on both sides, all the better." He glanced around. "We've got some strategy to lie out and we've got about six hours to do it in. Julian, do me a favor. Once we've got a solid idea, go round up Scarface, Peg-leg, and the Heron priests."

            Julian nodded.

            "The only way we're going to be able to go through with this is to split up." Said Falco, leaning on the table and looking at Fox's map. Fox had found the harbor needed, and glowing magic markers shimmered on it—the hypothesized location of the Tornado, as well as the prison. 

            "Not the best idea. Neither the Inferno or the Hawke has enough firepower to take on two full-crew navy vessels." One of the herons said, neck stretching over Fox's shoulder. Fox ignored him.

            "Non-lethally. That means no cannon fire." Fox replied. "None."

            "How do you expect us to do this then?" Another heron demanded.

            "Calm down and listen." Peppy snapped, having already had enough of the slightly patronizing herons. "The Hawke is faster then the Inferno, right?" He glanced at Peg-leg, tapping his fingers on the table.

            "Right. My ship's a lighter vessel, on all accounts. Only four cannons instead of the Inferno's full ten, and a crew only half as big." Said Peg-leg. 

            "Right. Do you have enough room to carry the jailed converts and herons?"

            "Of course."

            "Good." Fox moved the markers around on the map. "Your job is to sneak into port and sneak out again unnoticed. That possible?"

            "I've had to do it before." The large bosun admitted begrudgingly. "You have a plan, don't you?"

            "It just so happens that we do, and if everything works out right, we're out of port within two hours and no one dies." Said Tempest. "Care to hear it?"

            Twenty minutes later all gathered were staring at Fox's group.

            "You want us to take on two navy vessels and break people out of jail without killing or hurting anyone?!" One of the herons burst out. "Are you mad? That's impossible!"

            "I don't see what's so impossible about it." Said Rita. "You've got to know some invisibility and silence spells, and if you don't, we do."

            "Um, excuse me…"

            Everyone looked down at Yipsnarl, who was peeking over the edge of the table. Scarface grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him so he was sitting on the table edge. "Yes?"

            "Will this help?" He held up a bag and sling. Seeing the blank looks of those around him, he pulled out a small dusty ball, put it in the sling, and nailed Falco, who was at the other end of the table. With a puff of dust and a slightly dismayed squawk, Falco collapsed to the ground, snoring.

            There was a long silence, during which everyone looked at Yipsnarl.

            "Then again, maybe this isn't so impossible." Said Peg-leg slowly. "Shall we go over it again?"

            It was midnight when the BloodHawke and the Scarlet Inferno slid into the port, then split up, the BloodHawke slowly circling on the outside of the bay, keeping as low a profile as a three-mast ship could. The Scarlet Inferno headed for the center of port, toward where the Tornado was being held.

            Fox sighed, propping a foot up and watching the port city swell on the horizon. The BloodHawke was fast, he had to give it that. At full speed, it would have probably left the Inferno in its wake. But it also had a lot less armor and weaponry. Apparently, while the Inferno was meant to be a heavier carrier and diplomatic vessel, the Hawke was meant for short-distance sprints and message delivering. But that meant it was smaller, as well as lighter, and even with the triple masts it was able to slip into the docks unnoticed.

            Once the boat was docked, Fox jumped off and waited for the group he was working with, namely Tempest, Falco, Yipsnarl, Rita, and a group of bosuns from the Hawke, all of which were terrified they wouldn't get back to their ship by sundown. Falco, who very well knew what Yipsnarl had done to him not long ago, was not too pleased with the arrangement, but had already shut up about it. He sighed to himself, shaking his head and looking at the group, then gestured them into a huddle. "Listen up. I know this has already been explained once, but I'm going to do so again. We have to be quiet about this because we can't risk alerting the authorities. And no, absolutely no, killing. I can't emphasize this enough."

            The bosuns nodded as did his friends.

            "All right, let's go. We've got to do this as fast as we possibly can."

            "Yeah, looks like two heavy navy cruisers." Said Bill, looking through a spyglass. "Almost all the lights are out. I guess everyone's already asleep."

            Elgar shook off, wiping sweat off his brow absently. He, Slippy, and Katt had just finished casting a massive specialized invisibility/silence spell, and it was so far working. "Well, what's the plan of action then?"

            "We're going to work our way closer. We've got to find and release the crew, then cut the Tornado loose and tow it out of port. The earlier will the tougher, we don't know what ship the crew is in."

            Even as he spoke, the Inferno started moving closer. The Inferno was being held between the two navy ships, lashed to both with about ten feet distance between the hulls. After a moment, the Inferno pulled alongside one of the navy ships, and the ones boarding swung across the gap. Sleeping dust and spells kept the ship silent, but the search yielded nothing. After the ropes were cut, the group transferred back.

            Fara went with the second group, landing lightly on the deck of the navy ship and moving to the lower decks. The ship was silent around her as Bill, Julian, and a few bosuns followed her, the sound of the water drowning out their movements. The brig was also silent, the heavy doors locked and barred. Leaving the bosuns to stand watch, she, Bill, and Julian worked to get the door open. After several minutes, they succeeded.

            Movement stirred in the dark, then dozens of eyes blinked wearily back at them, accompanied by soft chitters.

            "You the crew of the Tornado?" Bill asked quietly. "If so, let's go. We don't have much time…"

            Even as he said that, a bell started clanging. The watch on the other ship had suddenly noticed the Inferno, and the alarm was going out. Moments later, bells started ringing on the ship they were in, and doors started banging open.

            Bill, Julian, and Fara looked at each other, then started running for the stairs, the bosuns closing in behind them, the crew of the Tornado struggling along weakly. By the time they reached the top deck, cannons were already booming, and the Inferno had already tried to run, dragging the Tornado and the attached navy ship with it. With happy chitters and cries, the crew dove for their boat, and the rescue team was quick to follow, grabbing onto the ropes even as they were slashed and clinging for their lives as the Tornado jerked forward, free of the weight of the navy ship and plunging after the Inferno.

            "Fox?"

            Fox glanced at Tempest, then froze, also hearing the booms of the cannons, which echoed across the entire port.

            "Aw, bloody hell." Falco moaned.

            Everyone agreed, and Fox gave up on Falco and Yipsnarl picking the lock and shoulder-checked the door open with a jerk. Then they were running down the stone corridor, glancing into cells. The other prisoners, also woke up by the cannons, shouted and thumped the bars, and were ignored. Yipsnarl, who had already pounced on and knocked out a guard, tossed the keys to one of the bosuns as he leapt to the next guard. Moments later the locked-up converts and herons were free, and chaos ensued as the group charged out of the jail.

            Dawn broke slowly, and no one suffered for it. Both the Hawke and the Inferno were tearing across the open sea, both with tow lines attached to the Tornado. For the first hour or so of the journey, several navy ships had been in chase, but they had long since left their pursuers behind. 

            Fox yawned, watching the sun come up. Falco had threatened Scarface with his very existence if their next stop wasn't the Bayou and if there were any more problems. Scarface had just laughed.

            "Thank god for some peace, eh?" Peppy remarked, leaning on the railing next to him.

            "I can't agree more."

            "By the way… through this whole mess, did you see Alan at all?"

            Fox thought back, and blinked. "Actually no…"

            Peppy considered for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Ah well…"

            "You wouldn't be laughing if you were worried. What do you know that I don't?"

            "Trust me, you do not want to know."

            Fox looked at him for a moment, then gave up and went to bed.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Jack's Tears

Section Eight: The Jack's Tears

            Three days after liberating the Tornado, the three boats glided into the Bay of Tears, the Hawke and Inferno still towing their crippled brethren. Almost immediately krakens surfaced, escorting them the rest of the way in.

            "Nothing changes, does it?" Fox remarked, looking at the Dark Carnival as the Inferno slid into the pier.

            "Not as far as I can tell." Falco replied.

            "Are you sure that it's safe for us here?" Elgar wanted to know.

            "Why? Are you nervous?" Asked a low, creepy voice from behind them.

            All three shot into the air, and Fox managed a laugh once he had turned. "Baron Mirth. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

            "Yes, and a productive while. We're still appreciative of the land we expanded to, I assure you." The skeletal figure replied, looking down at the much shorter mortals he was speaking to. "What brings your lot here, McCloud?"

            "We need to speak to Momus." 

            The Baron lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed. Care to tell me why?"

            "Not particularly."

            That drew a laugh, and the Baron nodded once respectfully before leaving the boat, strolling down the just-lowered ramp.

            "Who was that?" Tempest wanted to know, sword halfway drawn.

            "Sheath your weapon, Tempest." Fox replied calmly. "That was the Baron Mirth, one of the Jack's high command. He controls the Krewe of Bones." He wove his group together. "All right, most of us know the routine, but for those who don't, we're allies with the Blood Bayou, so keep your weapons in check."

            "And it helps to have a sense of humor." Alan remarked, grinning. "Trust me. And if you can, stay away from Lord Quick, it's never a good thing when he's being nosy."

            As usual, the Carnival was in full tilt, and the new arrivals on the three ships made it even more chaotic then usual. But unlike the rest of the world, the Bayou was in a strange sort of limbo. Barely affected by the outside world, it barely changed day to day, continuing on with its bloody, merry proceedings with complete disregard for time… or for life. Most civilized nations were of the opinion the world would be better if the Bayou was wiped off the planet for good, but standing between the Bayou and those kingdoms was the Phoenix Kingdom. In the negotiations, it had been decided that though the Bayou owned their land, they would remain part of the Kingdom, which protected them. It also protected the Phoenix Kingdom, or at least one border: no one was stupid enough to try to come through the Bayou to attack.

            Fox took a long look around and huffed to himself. Nothing had changed, the evil still grated down his spine, but this was evil that meant no harm, or at least to him personally. Most of his group had found tables and were waiting, the newer members of the group trying very hard to be ignored by the crowds. Fox didn't mind, as long as everyone stayed out of trouble, he supposed, walking up to the door of the Jack's building and lifting a hand.

            The door creaked open, and the Jack glanced up, then laughed out loud, standing and striding over to him. "Fox McCloud! It is about time that you found time to visit here again. I almost didn't believe the Baron when he told me not moments ago that you were here." The Jack grinned, tossing his mask over his shoulder absently. It bounced off the ground and landed on the throne. "You didn't even invite me to your wedding, you brat."

            "Yes I did, you didn't come." Fox replied, grinning back.

            "Huh." The Jack rubbed his pointy chin, tilting his head to one side. "Maybe you're right, maybe you're right. Well, you didn't come here alone, where's the rest of your ragtag menagerie?"

            "Waiting outside on the boardwalk."

            "Well, you might as well introduce me to the new members. Sashima already told me your group size has basically doubled, right before she told me she was going on vacation." The Jack gave him a look as they walked out of the building. "What did you do to her?"

            "**I didn't do anything."**

            "I'd doubt that, but then again, you're married."

            Fox decided to ignore that as they walked side by side down the wooden sidewalk, watching units of the Bayou dive out of the way, hastily kowtowing to their leader then scrambling away. His group heard them coming from a good distance, and were standing by the time they got there.

            "Twelve." The Jack lifted an eyebrow. "Do you pay these people to follow you around, Fox?"

            "We do it of our own free will, believe it or not." Falco replied, smiling a touch. "How are things here, Lord Momus?"

            "Less chaotic then most places." Was the bland reply. Elgar and Tempest looked at him as if he was mad, which was correct by most standards. "So, introduce me to the new recruits, McCloud." Fox did so, running through the list of names absently. The Jack took it in stride. "Interesting pack you have here. Now, out with it, young man." He poked Fox in the chest with a long nail. "Why have you drug all these people here? This isn't a popular place to relax, so I know you aren't taking a vacation."

            "We need information."

            "Oh, indeed? What on?"

            "The Titan's War."

            The Jack blanched before he caught himself, eyes narrowing. "Indeed." His voice changed, now odd. "Why?"

            "We think that the darker gods are trying to bring back Mormo."

            There was a long silence. "We'll speak tomorrow." And with that, the Jack was gone, walking swiftly back to his throne room.

            "What's with him?" Slippy wanted to know.

            "I take it that's not a good sign." Tempest said drolly.

            "He's not normally so…" Peppy searched for a word.

            "Grouchy." Falco offered.

            "Overly simplified, but correct."

            "We'll see how it goes tomorrow." Fox finally said. "We'll take tonight off. And please, don't get in trouble! It's known by now that you're my allies, but I don't trust Lord Quick. Be careful."

            Alan grinned, perching on a railing and sawing away on the violin. He was back at the Bayou, which meant that he was recharging, and Sashima was taking time off so she could spend time with him. That made everything better to him of course…

            He watched the crowd absently. The world had gotten a little rougher lately, even with the balance reestablished, and by some byproduct of that, the Bayou had a larger and more diverse population. He caught a few Drow here and there, of all things, as well as a wide variety of other beings. His group was wandering around, a few already retreated to the inn, the others finding things to do. As last time, Bill found the gambling tables, and most of the others found the dance floor.

            "You travel in… interesting company, bard."

            "Hmn?" Alan paused in his playing, glancing over his shoulder. An elf? Well, why not. "I suppose that I do, yes." He agreed after a moment, smiling a bit.

            "Most of these folks are well known, but who exactly is he?" The elf pointed his chin at Tempest, who was wandering by, in discussion with a skeleton.

            "That's Tempest."

            "You don't know his real name?"

            Alan gave him a look, then grinned. "Why should I ask? I don't use my real name anymore."

            "Oy." The elf wandered off.

            Tempest sighed, leaning on the railing of the docks and staring out at the strange, purplish water that filled the bay. This place was so clearly evil, and yet his current leader, an extremely devout follower of Heironeous, had nothing against it. To him, it was almost odd, but he understood in a way. Fox had been allies with the Jack for over two years now. They almost seemed like friends—almost. It was fairly clear they didn't exactly trust each other, or that it would take a very small thing to make them enemies. Or maybe he was wrong about that…

            "Himo Galanodel. Long time, no see."

            Tempest froze, looking over his shoulder. Leaning against a wooden post, mostly shrouded in a cape, was an Elven figure. He couldn't see the face, but he knew the voice. He could never forget that voice.

            "Or should I say, 'Tempest,' since that's apparently what you're going by now." The figure laughed to itself. "So tell me, how by the grace of any god did you survive, hmmmm? Those wounds were deep, I made sure of that."

            "Heian Nerrivous." Tempest snarled, turning fully to face the figure. "I should kill you right now."

            "If you think you can." The elf brushed back the hood of his cape, grinning evilly. "You didn't have any luck last time. Nor did your father… or the rest of your family…"

            With a shriek of rage, Tempest pulled his sword and charged. Heian was more then ready, blocking the blade and returning the attack, which was only blocked. The two backed away from each other and began to circle, both holding their swords at ready. They had both had the same training, and knew each other's moves.

            They attacked at the same time, sword blades ringing as they clashed, moving too fast to be clearly seen. It went on nearly ten minutes before first blood was drawn, Tempest's sword taking a wedge out of one of Heian's ears. Heian nearly lost his sword in shock, going on defense, fighting with one arm and using the other to hold his ear, blood dripping out from between his fingers, teeth bared in a snarl.

            "First blood to me." Tempest grinned, forcing Heian onto defense. "And one small thing about our last confrontation, Heian: I was wounded. I had three arrows in me already. I was already dying." He dealt another slash, this one scoring his enemy's arm. "And you really wonder why you won."

            Heian leapt back, then spat some low, demonic-sounding words. Tempest yelped as pain seared his eyes, making fireworks explode across his vision as he staggered away form his enemy, one hand desperately clutching his sword, the other covering his burning eyes. Heian laughed and began his attack anew, Tempest frantically defending himself one-armed, nearly fighting blind. It was only a matter of time before Heian was drawing blood, a long slash up Tempest's leg, then a stab into his chest, cracking two ribs and barely missing his heart. Tempest fell once the blade had been pulled off, sword flying from his hand and collapsing.

            "You loose because you try to fight with honor." Heian remarked, propping a foot on Tempest's chest, holding the tip of his sword to Tempest's throat. "And because of that, you will always loose."

            "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

            Heian turned toward the noise, then yipped in surprise as a small whirlwind hit him, throwing him off balance and forcing him away from Tempest. After several minutes of confused chaos, Heian had the form by the tail: Yipsnarl the kobold, who was still snarling and trying to get to him. "Now, this is laughable." He remarked, looking at where Tempest was still lying, struggling to get up.

            "Not sure… what's so funny about it…" Tempest wheezed in reply. "Looks to me like he cut you up pretty good."

            Heian looked down at himself, frowning at the many shallow cuts that covered his chest and arms. "That he did." He pitched the Kobold over his shoulder, directly into the bay. "I'll let you live for now, Himo." And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows.

            There were several long minutes of silence, then with a series of sputters Yipsnarl climbed back on the docks, shook vigorously, and hurried over to Tempest. "You ok?"

            "Not… really. Do me a favor, and go find Fox. Hurry."

            Yipsnarl nodded and scrambled off.

            "Ok, here's a question, and not one I like." Said Peppy, passing mugs around. "Theoretically, who is the Jack going to side with when this heavenly struggle truly hits the mortal plane? The Bayou is evil, but has never really cared for the world outside it."

            "Good question." Fox admitted. "And I'm not sure. They did side with us against Andross, but that's because we were offering them something in return for being our allies. The thing is, I don't think the Bayou is under any god."

            "Some of the beings are, though. I know there are followers of Mormo in the Bayou." Said Alan, taking one of the mugs and downing it.

            Sashima nodded. "Plenty of them, too. But I'm not sure if they'll ultimately answer to the Jack or to her, though."

            "I suppose it would be something to ask the Jack after he tells us his story." Said Bill, money bags full from taking those playing cards with him for everything they had.

            "I agree… awk!" This was added when Fox was tackled to the ground by a kobold at high speed. "Hey, watch it, small one."

            "Come on, come on!" Yipsnarl stood, grabbed his hand, and tugged.

            "Where do you want me to go, and why?" Fox asked as he stood, dusting himself off absently.

            The kobold leapt up, grabbing his shirt and bracing against his stomach so they were nose to nose. "Tempest is hurt!"

            "What?!"

            Tempest coughed weakly, lifting his head when he heard footsteps pounding down the dock toward him. "About time… you got here…"

            "What happened?" Fox demanded, crouching next to him, wincing when he saw the wounds.

            "Long… story…" He looked at Yipsnarl. "Thanks."

            Katt and Rita elbowed Fox to the side, much to his general annoyance, looking at the wounds. "This isn't good." Rita said after a moment. "The blade was envenomed. We won't be able to heal this very well…"

            "That… would explain… the burning…"

            "No, don't talk." Rita looked at Fox, feeling helpless.

            "We take him to the Jack." Said Alan. "Trust me." He added when everyone gave him a 'you-really-are-crazy' look.

            "All right. Trusting you has gotten us this far." Fox shook his head. "I'm going to have to carry you, Tempest." He remarked, then slid his arms under the Kensai's back and stood.

            "I don't think… I'm in any shape… to argue." Was the weak reply.

            The Jack, who had been silently stewing on his throne, looked up when he heard noise outside his throne room. He had set the doors to locked, but it didn't seem to matter: those outside kicked them open with one hit. "You're pressing your luck, McCloud." He remarked, narrowing his eyes. "And you're getting blood on my floor. What happened? Didn't you tell your people to stay out of trouble?"

            "He's mortally wounded." Fox replied, ignoring the implied threats. "And he hasn't got much time left. We can't do anything to help him, either." Guilt and worry came into his voice.

            The Jack stood. "Tell me what happened later, then." He said, walking over and looking at Tempest, who had slid from consciousness. He waved a hand, and the floor was promptly covered in pillows. "Set him down. I don't need to have the spells I'm going to do affecting you as well."

            Fox did so as the others in the group looked at the floor. "Pillows?" Sashima finally asked.

            "I improvised, ok?" The Jack replied, crouching next to Tempest, ripping open Tempest's tunic. "You'll have to lend him a shirt." He remarked. "And you were right to come to me. This wasn't done by an envenomed blade, it was done by something else, a cursed blade maybe. It's sucking his life force out. He's going undead."

            "Well, do something about it already!" Alan shouted, frustrated, then winced when the Jack glared him into the ground. "Sorry, boss."

            "I'm sure you are." The Jack grumbled. "When did I become so humble that I deal with mortals like I am at their levels?" He pulled his wand out. "This is going to hurt." He remarked to Tempest's prone form, and pressed the white end of the wand to Tempest's chest.

            Tempest, unconscious or not, still yelled. The others winced, watching with wide eyes as the wounds regenerated perfectly, then all of the scars that Tempest had had also disappeared. Only then did the Jack remove the wand, and Tempest sat up with a gasp, eyes wide.

            "Feel better?" The Jack asked in a snide voice.

            "What was that?"

            "You regenerating a good chunk of your flesh, since you were about halfway to being a zombie. Unless you really want to be a zombie." He added, flipping the wand around so the black end pointed at Tempest.

            "No, no. I like being alive." Tempest assured him.

            "Good for you." The Jack stood. "So, I brought your friend back to the world of the living. What do I get in return, hm?" He looked at Fox.

            "What do you want?" Fox asked warily.

            "How about a decent explanation on why you want me to dig up some very unhappy memories about the Titan's War?" The Jack poked Fox's chest nearly hard enough to draw blood with one of his long nails. "Why do you think the new Parthenon would want anything to do with Mormo? She's an unruly, selfish bitch of a woman, and I don't know why anyone would want to bring her back, especially after all of the trouble they went through to chop her up so messily."

            "Ugh." Rita muttered, shuddering.

            "You knew her?" Peppy asked after a moment.

            "I had the bad luck to meet her, yes." The Jack replied. "I've been around a very, very long time. Mormo is by no mean a nice woman."

            There was a long, silent pause.

            "You'll want to talk to Elgar, I suppose." Fox said finally. "He's the one who brought our current quest to us, so he can give you the most accurate background."

            "All right, go get him. Now. And I don't care if you have to wake him up. There's no longer any point to delaying this more."

            Elgar yawned, looking around. The pillows had been dismissed to wherever they had come from, and now the throne room had been transformed into a meeting room, assorted chairs having been summoned in, the oddest of which was some sort of hammock-chair which Alan and Sashima were sharing. He flopped in an armchair, looking around at the others. "So, I get to tell my tale again, hmn?"

            "As soon as the Jack returns." Said Falco. "You missed all the excitement."

            "So I was told." He glanced at Tempest, who had dug a clean tunic out of his pack. "Why the sudden rescheduling? I thought we were going to do this in the morning."

            "We don't know, and yes, that was the plan an hour ago." Said Slippy, yawning.

            "I keep forgetting that mortals sleep." Said the Jack's voice as he came in from a back room, working his hands in gloves. 

            The entire group gaped. The Jack had undergone a transformation. Instead of the jester-like outfit and mask (or paint, when he wasn't wearing a mask), he now wore old-style Elven clothing—very old style. Now, instead of looking at the dark, insane leader of the Bayou, they were looking at an Elf from ancient times, covered in scars, eyes glittering with an odd, maniacal light.

            "Uh." Said Alan, now sitting bolt upright. "Boss…?"

            "Yes indeed." The Jack cackled, looking down himself. "My god, it has been so long…"

            "By the style of clothing, I think we have all inferred that." Said Peppy very carefully.

            "And when you're several thousand years old, you won't look near this good, so don't complain." The Jack flopped in a chair, propping his feet up. "Well, you're going first as far as stories go." He looked at Elgar. "So start to explain already."

            Elgar took a breath and launched into much the same explanation he had given Fox so long ago, but slightly edited now that he really knew what was going on. Fox jumped in once the story carried that far, explaining what had happened at Morningstar: Adkins' betrayal, the attack, the conclusion that had been reached. The Jack listened silently, tail twitching, hands laced across his stomach. After the explanation finished, there was a very long silence.

            "There is a reason I didn't publish an account." Said the Jack finally. "And I never will, either, though I don't see a reason not to tell you."

            "What's the reason?" Julian asked after a moment.

            The Jack closed his eyes. "Because I want the world to forget. Because _I want to forget."_

            "If history is forgotten, we're doomed to repeat it." Peppy remarked.

            "Yes, but if the world forgets, maybe the world can heal. Maybe I can heal."

            Another very long pause.

            "All right, I can't stand it any longer." Falco burst out. "Do you have any idea who odd that sounds coming out of you?!"

            The Jack laughed out loud, eyes opening. "That's because all you've ever known is what I have become, Falco Lombardi. Do you think that I was always like this? No." He grinned. "Not at all. Look at me right now, all of you. This is what I used to be." He turned to Katt. "Look at my clothing. What social rank is this for?"

            She looked at him for a long moment, then gaped. "You were a priest?"

            "Once upon a long time ago." He nodded once, grin slowly falling. "Not a high priest, by any means, but a close follower of Corellon." He sighed, looking at the ceiling. "You're all young, and don't give me hell about that Peppy. You're all young. If you think that life now is hard, you don't have any idea. When the Titans still walked the earth, it was even worse. To be frank, the day the War started was long awaited. Anything to get rid of the Titans." He paused. "It was a very long war. It lasted over a decade. But the Titans did fall." He played with a necklace he wore, the pendant of which was the symbol of the Bayou. "You want to know if raising Mormo is possible, so let me tell you now kids, it's more then possible. It's been going on for the last twenty years or more. I'm stunned it's taken the newer gods this long to notice."

            "You've known the entire time?!" Elgar burst out, curling his hands into fists. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

            "Who'd listen to me?" The Jack demanded. "I'm feared, and I revel in the fact, but it has its disadvantages, human! And yes, I've known the entire time. I know everything that happens within the Bayou, and there are followers of Mormo within the Bayou. It's only now that there's enough power amassed to attempt the actual resurrection." He paused, then an absolutely evil grin spread across his face. "I am proud to say that none of the local followers of Mormo will be participating in the event. I've already had them taken care of."

            "You had your own people killed?" Tempest blurted.

            "I just saved your life, be careful to judge me. And yes, I did. Without a thought, without guilt. If they followed Mormo, they were far from 'my own people.' I told Lord Quick to take care of them." He studied his nails. "I daresay he obeyed. He knows if he does one more thing to anger me that I'm going to kill him personally." He glanced up at the group. "Stop looking at me like that."

            "Tell us how to." Slippy said weakly. "You've just admitted to murder."

            "You're sitting in the Blood Bayou. Think about it. This place is seeped in 'red-rum.' It's how some of the people here stay alive." He shrugged. "So, you know what you need to know. Mormo is indeed on her way back. What do you plan on doing about it?"

            "We're not sure yet." Fox admitted slowly. "What do YOU plan on doing about it?"

            There was a very long silence. The Jack closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, they were burning maniacal red. "If no one else does anything about it, I'm gathering my army and leaving the Bayou to stop the proceedings myself. If Mormo arises, my Bayou will be one of the first things she will try to take over, and I will in no way allow that. Plus, I just had a few hundred of her devout followers killed, and I doubt she's happy about it."

            "And if someone does do something about it?"

            "I trust myself, my followers, and no one else." Was the instant reply. "I don't care if the gods gather, I'm going to go after the ceremony site. I plan to leave in a week."

            There was a long silence.

            "You're not going after Mormo to defend your land, Momus." Rita said slowly. "You're lying, you've been lying. That may be a cover-up reason, but it's not your own, personal reason. You're out for revenge."

            "Smart girl. Too damn smart for your own good." The Jack eyed her. "Yes I am, and I don't think I shall tell you why." He turned his eyes back to the ceiling, cracking his knuckles absently. "You're all dismissed. Go to bed, mortals."

            They stood slowly and started to leave.

            "Elgar."

            The mage turned. "Yes, Lord Momus?"

            "Is that half-fiend bastard of a sorcerer still running Morningstar?"

            "I don't know who you're talking about, but it's Olicar Bendel running Morningstar now, and he has been for a long time."

            "You could have just said 'yes,' you know." The Jack said absently, then blinked, looking at him and grinning. "You mean you don't know?"

            "What are you… are you seriously insinuating that…"

            "Insinuate nothing, I've known him since he was twenty. Yes, he's a half-fiend. Look at his hands real close sometime. Or catch him without a cape or his robes." He turned his eyes back to the ceiling, laughing to himself. "Hell, if you think that's hilarious, the leader of Mezobarlin is a half-celestrial. Kind of backwards, don't you think?" He wove a hand in a general gesture of dismissal, and the group went.

            "Bendel? A half-fiend?" Bill asked. The group had gathered again on the boardwalk, grabbing drinks as plague fiends with loaded trays happened by. "Was he serious?"

            "Completely." Said Alan. "I've been here long enough to tell, and he wasn't lying." He grinned. "I should have figured it out, it's so glaringly obvious that Bendel isn't human…"

            Elgar just sort-of shrugged, feeling a bit shell-shocked.

            "All right, calm down everyone." Fox sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Well, I suppose we now know what we need to. What now?"

            "I suggest we get some sleep and figure that out in the morning." Said Falco a bit wearily, and everyone agreed.

            "You're smart, but you don't listen well. I told you to go to bed." The Jack said, not even looking up. He was back in his normal clothing, sitting slouched on his throne, wearing an unhappy mask. "You do know what the penalty is for purposely disobeying me on my land, right?"

            "Death, dismemberment, you'll throw me to Lord Quick…" Rita shrugged, coming the rest of the way into the room. "You didn't tell us the entire story. I'm here to get the rest."

            "I've changed my mind. You're brave, but you're stupid." The Jack grumbled, lifting his gaze to look at her. "I should just kill you now and get it over with."

            "I'm not stopping you. You'll have to face Fox's wrath though, and I daresay he could do some damage before you stopped him."

            There was a long silence, then the Jack snarled and wove a hand, and another chair thumped to the ground in front of him. "Sit down already. And I hope you're tolerant. It's not a happy story at all."

            "I figured out that much." She replied, walking across the room and sitting slowly. "I knew it had to be something very bad if it turned you from your race and your god."

            "It was a long time ago." He replied, slouching further and looking at the ceiling.

            "Take your time."

            "It's odd to remember it now, it doesn't seem real, it seems like some strange dream, or maybe a nightmare, taunting me with what could have been. I don't even know how long it's been, but it has to be thousands of years ago. The Titans were still reigning then, and the result was kind of like a feudal arrangement. Gods under the Titans, mortals under the gods. It was an uneasy arrangement.

            Corellon Larethian was young then, of course, many of the gods were. He was left to his own devises for the most part, as he only had the Elves under him, and that let him carry on with business and pick his more devout followers without being lorded over by the Titans. I was one of them. I don't remember it very well… it seems to… happy to be real. I was under him for years, several hundred. I remember… I think I had a family, I had to have had one…

            Then the darker years came, when the Titans started to consider themselves unbeatable, and did whatever they pleased. I remember when the moon was like another earth, beautiful, full of life, but then Gaurak cleared it of life, ate everything… I remember looking up night after night, praying to my god that something, someone could stop him as lifelessness spread across the moon… but nothing did. The moon died. She's still crying up there, mourning for her creatures…

            The gods finally had enough, and in their effort to stop the Titans, they turned their eyes from the mortals of the world. Chaos broke out. It was hard, I remember that much. Those directly under their gods were suddenly abandoned as the war started. But it was too late for me, for my family.

            My wife… my wife was a human, I remember that, and I don't to this day know what happened to her… if I was so happy, why was she so bitter? What happened? Regardless, Mormo… Mormo took her from me… and she would have recruited other women in the village, so I had no choice but to stop her, and to do that, I had to kill her. I did. The village didn't understand of course, all they saw was a man of their god suddenly turned into a murderer, ranting, maybe mad. The village turned inside out, death happened all over… I don't remember what happened to cause it. When I left, the village was no more. I burned it down. Anything to stop the corruption Mormo had started, and I decided it was time that Mormo left the world alone for good. Without the support of my god, I turned to other means, desperate to have enough power to have my revenge. Dark arts, sacrifices, anything. My notoriety grew. I was feared, and I found I more then liked the fact, and forgot about my need for revenge.

            I don't remember why I ended up on the coast that is now the Bay of Tears, but I remember watching Kadum's body cast into it, watching his blood wash up on the shore and poison the land. He was one of the last to fall, and I sat on that bloody beach and cried. It was over, and I had been left with nothing. I was shunned by my god, and I had been forced to do in my own family. I was considering giving up and letting myself die when I realized I wasn't alone.

            I wasn't the only one to come to the Bay that day. Sitting beside me was who is now called the Demoiselle, and standing or sitting nearby were some others, all in situations similar to mine. They had seen me, caught up in my sorrow, and had been curious. It was only when they got close when they realized I was powerful. We camped together that night, on the bloody beach, watching the swamp corrupt, and decided we'd make our living here. To hell with the world, it had given us nothing. About a decade later was when the first stories of the Blood Bayou and the Dark Carnival started to circulate, and they've been circulating ever since."

            There was a very long silence.

            "And now, a group of very stupid gods have decided to bring back Mormo, and I just can't have that. I haven't gotten to take my revenge yet, but now's as good as time as any." He finally said, eyes closed. He had pulled off and tossed aside the mask at some point during the story, showing a painted face, and now a pair of tears had made the paint run in slow streaks, marring the bright pattern.

            "I can understand why you didn't want to tell the group." She said after a moment. "I'm sorry I was persistent."

            "No. I suppose you were in your right." He shrugged. "Go get some sleep. Believe me, tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

            She stood slowly. "You know something that we don't?"

            He sighed. "I know much you do not. Trust me."

            The day dawned slowly, the skies lighting up red with the first rays of sunlight. Fox sighed, sitting on the ledge outside his window and watching it. The Bayou was good for parties, but miserable if you were trying to get some rest. The carnival never stopped, and so the noise never did either. That, on top of the scent of blood and the feeling of evil, had meant he hadn't gotten much sleep at all.

            Fara wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back in the window. "Come back to bed, early bird."

            "I can't sleep here." Fox replied, trying to detach himself, then gave up and hugged her back. "It's going to have to wait until we're out of the bayou."

            "You know, I'd almost like being here if you wouldn't go all twitchy."

            "I'm sorry, I'm not meaning to." He huffed to himself. "Let's get everyone else up. We've got to figure out what's next."

            Alan had just arrived at the door when they opened it, and stopped his hand mid-raise, grinning. "Good morning. Want me to wake up everyone?"

            "That seems to be the tradition." Fox agreed, and Alan bounced down the hallway, kicking doors on his way down. After a few minutes, the doors started opening, and people drug themselves into the main corridor, yawning. 

            "So, what's the next step, Fox?" Slippy asked.

            "We go talk to the Jack again." Fox replied. "He knows what's happening, and he seems to know where. And that's what we need to know."

            Tempest followed along with the group, glancing around, feeling uneasy. He knew that Heian was still in the Bayou, and felt like he was being watched all the time. His wounds had healed miraculously, even the old scars fading, except the old one over his eye. It had reopened during the night. He had spent the pre-dawn hours trying to stop the blood flow, and now it was just a scar again.

            Surprisingly, the Jack was waiting for them, or seemed to be. He was staring off toward the horizon over the Bay, eyes unfocused, ears twitching.

            "Good morning." The Jack remarked over their shoulder when they stopped about ten feet behind him. "Lovely red sky, hmm?"

            "Sailor take warning, I thought." Falco said.

            "Not this morning." The Jack replied, voice drifting. "This morning, everyone should take warning. Do you feel that?"

            The group glanced at each other, blinking.

            "Not a damn thing." Falco replied after a long moment.

            "Only the Bayou." Said Fox.

            "McCloud, you should. Close your eyes and listen." The Jack shamed. "You of any should know this sound."

            Fox blinked at the Jack's back, then did so, letting his senses wander. The Bayou was messing with him much like the desert had earlier in this adventure, making him blind-deaf to the real world. But when he concentrated, he could tell what the Jack was talking about. Something was happening, the world was… gathering? Why? He let his senses wander farther, and heard it.

            The music of the gods. It was quiet now, just starting, but he could tell it was going to progressively get louder until it was a deafening choir-scream. It was the cry of the legion. The gods were starting to call their armies. He caught the herald-trumpets of Heironeous, the flutes and drums of Corellon, the hymns of Pelor, all thrown together with the others in a wild, confused mix.

            "Been a while since I heard that." Alan remarked, pulling out his flask and taking a drink then passing it automatically to Falco.

            "Heard what?" Bill wanted to know. Most of the group was starting to get solidly confused. Rita had already caught on, and had dropped to her knees, falling into prayer.

            "If you can't hear it, you'll hear it soon." The Jack said very slowly. "It'll start to peak within the hour, and it'll go on all day." He shook off and turned to them. "I knew the situation was bad, but this only confirms that it's worse." He snarled. "There's no time left." And with that, he shoved through the group, yelling orders at the top of his lungs. The Carnival screeched to a halt, and stunned silence fell over the Bayou for a heartbeat, then it exploded into motion. Preparing for war.

            "What is going on?" Julian demanded, speaking for almost everyone.

            Fox didn't reply, mentally singling Heironeous' call out of the mix, listening to the melody. His father had heard the music almost all the time. It was that which had driven him to crusade, to become legend. But it was rare that the gods put out their orders on such a massive scale. He never thought he would live to see the legions assembled. He had been proved wrong.

            Alan felt the power start to grow and automatically stepped back, shading his eyes. Fox threw his arms open and let the bolt of white lightning hit him, power exploding around him in bursts of holy strength and spreading out from him. The group staggered backwards, stunned, eyes wide and holding their ears as the trumpets grew deafening for a few split seconds. Then it was over, and Fox had dropped to one knee, panting.

            "I've never… never heard…" Peppy said, already on one knee. "My god…"

            "Exactly." Fox said, looking up and still panting. "That, my friends, was the call to assemble the legions. The gods are assembling their armies. Heironeous used me as a contact to put his call out." He staggered to his feet and shook off.

            "He's calling you to war." Fara said quietly, crossing her arms, an odd look on her face.

            "I don't have much of a choice." Fox replied gently. "Besides, what I'm being called to do is what we were planning on doing anyway. Mormo's going to be resurrected soon, and the gods on the side of good are drawing their people to them so they can try and do something about it."

            The group exchanged a look.

            "When do we move out?" Tempest finally asked.

            The remainder of the day was a long series of frenzied activities: making sure they had the supplies, figuring out where they were going in the first place, plotting their journey. The gods had chosen their gathering spot almost straight north of the Bayou, but it was several hundred miles. It would take a few days to get there.

            Making their actions a bit tougher was the fact that the Bayou was impossible to get around in now. The Jack was pulling all the stops. Armor was being fitted, weapons made and sharpened, members of the Bayou racing through the Carnival to get things done. The noise of the carnival fully doubled because of the frantic preparation.

            Fox made his way through to the crowd and got to the throne room without being crushed. The doors hung open, and the high-ranks of the Bayou were coming and going constantly. The Jack was standing, leaning on a table, looking at maps and lists. A heavy scimitar hung at his side, and his clothing, while still appropriate to the Bayou, was clearly a form of armor. He glanced up when Fox walked in. "Getting ready to leave, hm?"

            "Yes indeed." Fox walked over, looking at the map. "I know this is going to anger you, but I'm still going to ask. Is this necessary?"

            The Jack just looked at him for a moment. "You have more to give up then I, McCloud, and yet you're willingly walking into the slaughterhouse. Hell, you're running pell-mell for it." He snickered to himself, shaking his head. "It's going to be bad, McCloud. Thousands are going to die before this is over. Aren't you worried one of them might be you?"

            Fox looked back. "I'm a soldier of my god, and so it's my duty to fight for him, Momus."

            "In my opinion, the best thing that could happen to you is to loose Heironeous' favor." The Jack studied his nails absently. "And I know I'm not the only one thinking that."

            "You mean Fara?" Fox blinked.

            "She loves you more then anything, but she loathes the fact that your god has chained you with so much responsibility." He shook his head. "I know how to recognize such feelings, trust me." He held up a hand, cutting off what Fox was going to say. "Go find Alan. He has something to tell you I think. Then move out. The world does not have long."


	9. Chapter Nine: Assembling The Legion

Section Nine: The Assembling of the Legion

            "The gods have set up way gates." Said Rita, tracing a path on Fox's map. "If we head for the nearest one we'll be there in only a day's travel."

            "But how do they prevent from followers getting confused?" Slippy wanted to know, adjusting one of his guns as the group rode on. His horse knew the routine, and followed along with the group automatically.

            "It's interesting, actually. It's something they agreed on, meaning both sides of the coin. Depending on who you follow, you'll be ported automatically to within a few hours of your side's camp. There are gates like it all around the world." Said Alan.

            "The better to expedite the war, I suppose." Said Bill.

            "That, and the followers of the darker gods are helping with the ceremony." Said Sashima. "The gods of light might be gathering an army, but the dark gods are gathering worshipers, willing sacrifices, _and_ an army."

            "Don't take this the wrong way… but how do you two know so much?" Julian asked, glancing at the two members of the Blood Bayou.

            "The gods talk to me quite often." Alan shrugged. "I think they figure that since I'm already crazy, they can't do any more harm. Olidammara is feeding me information as he gets it, and since he plays both sides of this war, I know much."

            "And let's just say I have experience in high diplomacy." Said Sashima with a shrug.

            The group accepted that.

            "We're not going to make that gate by nightfall." Fox said, suddenly pulling up his steed and shaking his head. The unicorn wandered through the group, rubbing each tired horse with her horn in passing, lending the other steeds energy. "Rita, since you have my map, find us a likely place to camp, all right?" He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He still faintly heard the call of his god, though Heironeous wasn't directing it at him anymore. "We'll arrive at the gate tomorrow morning."

            "Works for us." Said Peppy. "I doubt that anyone got much sleep last night."

            As the day progressed, the group saw more and more camps being set up, and soon were joined by other followers of assorted gods. Others had been informed of the way gate, and were moving toward it. The product was a very uneasy truce between all races and all followers. Fox found himself at one point riding next to a Black Knight, who had just looked at him and shrugged.

            In the end, they didn't even set up their own campsite, they joined one that was already being set. The followers of the dark gods had split off, camping about fifty yards away. Shields had been put up between the camps: no one with hostile intentions could get through.

            "This is about the strangest situation I have ever been in." Tempest remarked, staring off toward the fires of the dark camp. "My common sense says that it is in our best interest to wipe that camp out, but something else then my common sense says that it would be my death to."

            "That's the control wards put on this camp." Peppy replied. "Apparently, the gods don't want us killing each other until we're on the battlefield."

            Fara sighed, standing and walking away from the fire, doing an uneasy circle of the camp. Her hippogriff stood and followed her absently. The camp, though by no means noisy as the Bayou, was taking advantage of all the different folk gathered. Stories were being told, songs sung, revivals held. She saw Alan and Sashima tangled up in the middle of it, doing what they did best. A few of the other group members were in the mess as well, she saw Slippy consulting other gadget masters, Bill going through what appeared to be elaborate sword dances with a few other gladiators, and Katt and Rita speaking to other magic users.

            Fox, who had been speaking to a knight, saw her wandering by herself and excused himself from the conversation and caught up with her. "Is something wrong?"

            She sighed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. "I'm worried, that's all. I know you can't resist the call of your god, but I don't want to loose you. We've been through a lot already, Fox. A year and a half isn't much of a forever."

            He smiled, returning the hold. "You're not going to loose me, love."

            "You can't promise me that, and you know it."

            They stood there for a while, then heard a rumble from the camp, then the shouts.

            "Ho! Rider approaching from the other camp! He's got a white flag!" Shouted a voice.

            Fox and Fara looked at each other, then made their way back to the camp. Standing at the edge of the camp was a Fist of Hextor, the rider deeply cloaked, the large black Friesian that served as the steed snorting to itself, pawing the ground absently. Both the rider and the steed were dressed in the black armor of their god, and the staff the rider held had a flag with the symbol of his god hanging under the white flag.

            "What do you want?" Asked an Elven sorcerer, leaning on his staff absently and eying the Fist of Hextor.

            "I'm looking for someone…" Was the dry reply as the rider shifted in his saddle.

            "Your kind isn't here, sorry. Move on."

            "I'm not looking for another Fist, Sorcerer of Corellon." Growled the rider, eying the gathering people, then his gaze fell on Fox. "I found who I'm looking for. You can clear out. I'm under a white flag. If I violate it, I'll die instantly." The crowd backed off uneasily, going about their business. The rider swung down from his saddle, brushing back the hood of his cloak.

            "Titus Albrecht?!" Fara gasped.

            "Hello, Fara. Been a while, hasn't it?" Titus grinned, holding the reins of his horse. His hair fell in a pale wave around his face, and he looked tired, worn. His eyes were permanently darkened by the will of his god. "I've been looking for you all day, McCloud." He remarked in a slightly chiding voice. "You'd think a Hallowed would be easier to find…"

            "What do you want here, Titus?" Fox asked warily. "You've obviously gone out of your way to find me."

            "I just want to see if what I thought was true." Titus shrugged, making the heavy black armor clank. "Well, may I join your camp temporarily?"

            Fox looked at Titus for several minutes, then sighed. "I suppose."

            "You trust me?"

            "I trust the enchantments on this place."

            Fox walked back to where his group was camped, one arm around Fara protectively. Titus walked behind them silently, still leading his horse. The group looked up when the arrived, the looks on their faces surprised and uneasy.

            "At the wrong camp, aren't you?" Falco asked, hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword.

            "Perhaps." Titus shrugged. "Expanded your group yet again, McCloud? I seem to recall that last time you numbered only ten. Now you seem to number thirteen. Bad luck, you know."

            "We've had good enough luck thus far." Slippy remarked.

            "Perhaps." Titus repeated, sitting down absently, staring into the fire. "It seems like a divine irony that we're facing each other again, you know." He looked at Fox, who had also sat down.

            "I think it is your will that is causing it." Was the careful reply. "It was your choice, and your choice alone, to fall to Hextor."

            "I didn't fall!" He snapped, hands curling into fists. "True enough that it was my choice, but I saw no better way and still see no better way. I'm powerful now. I wasn't before. I don't see how there's any comparison."

            "I suppose that would depend on your definition of power, now wouldn't it?" Fox poked the fire, carefully not looking at Titus. "So Hextor is calling you, eh? What's going to happen if you live through this fight? Are you planning on taking the kingdom over, I suppose?"

            "My own, yes. I've waited long enough to be in a position of true power."

            "And what of your parents?"

            "My parents are deluded." He spat. "They think I still follow Pelor deep down, the fools. Hellfire, they probably think that right now I'm off helping charity or courting a princess or saving the world… though in an obscure way they might be right on the last account…"

            "Isn't it us that is saving the world?" Alan asked dryly, taking a drink absently and passing his flask to Titus.

            "Raspberry Reaper?" When Alan nodded, Titus knocked back a large gulp and passed the flask back. "I needed that, thanks bard. And as for saving the world, that depends on what kind of world you want."

            There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

            "What do you want here, Titus?" Fox finally demanded.

            Titus laughed out loud, standing. "It wasn't I that wanted to see you, McCloud. It was my god." He turned to Tempest. "I have a message for you, Himo Galanodel. Quote, 'Do not believe you have seen the last of me,' unquote. I think you know who it is from." Then he grabbed the reins of his horse and started walking away, pulling the hood of his cloak back up.

            "Why would Hextor want to see you?" Fara finally asked, glancing at Fox.

            "Study me for weakness, I suppose." Fox shrugged, glancing at Tempest, who looked unsettled. "I take it your 'friend' that hurt you is still nearby, hmm?"

            "Yes. I do not think that I will be getting any sleep tonight." Tempest replied tiredly.

            There was a pause, then Fox suddenly remembered something. "Alan, the Jack said you had something to tell me, is it anything important?"

            "Ask her." Alan nodded at Fara. "Because I know she has something to talk to you about. Aren't I right, Fara?"

            She looked at him, then laughed weakly, bowing her head. "Crazy old man…"

            "That I am, but I'm no fool."

            Fox stood. "In which case, let's go talk about it privately. And the rest of you should probably think about retiring. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a long day."

            Fara sighed, staring up at the stars. She and Fox had walked away from the camp, and were now a good enough distance away that they could assume they had some privacy. Somehow, that didn't comfort her much.

            Fox reached over and pulled her close, nuzzling her. "What is it you want to talk about, love? I know you're worried, and I'm sorry for that."

            "It's not exactly that, it's… Fox, I think I'm pregnant." She felt him freeze up. "I'm not certain, I mean, but…" She started.

            He tightened his grip, going over that again and again in his head. "And that's why you're so worried?"

            "I think I'm allowed to worry when you're going into battle." She snorted.

            "Given." He chuckled, snuggling her. "How certain are you, exactly?"

            "I guess completely now. Alan's got that strange sixth sense of his, you remember that he knew when my mother was, so I guess if he knew…"

            "Alan saying much of anything is pretty much a confirmation then." Fox shifted. "And let me guess. You're in no way going to let me send you back to the Bayou so you're safe, let alone send you home."

            "Right. Try to order me around like that and I will hurt you. We're equals, and you know it." She frowned at him. "I'm not going home unless the whole group is going. I mean, what am I supposed to do, sit around and knit while I wait to find out whether or not anyone's been killed?"

            "So what do we do then?" He wanted to know, staring off in the direction of the other camp.

            "We do what we were going to in the first place, Fox. We help stop the resurrection of Mormo." She turned his gaze back to her. "And if you start treating me like an invalid, so help me Heironeous, I'll…"

            He burst into laughter.

            Dawn broke almost oddly clear, the sun burning away what little fog clung to the ground. Cooking fires scented the air with smoke, and the camps were busy with groups getting ready to move.

            Falco yawned, staggering back to where his group was camped. Katt had nudged him awake early today, and he had used the time to talk to the others in the area and see if anything was happening.

"Any interesting news around the camp?" Peppy asked, glancing up from the cooking fire.

"Doesn't seem like it. The world is pretty much like things are here, apparently." He paused. "But the numbers that are being thrown around seem absurdly high. It's being said that there could be as many as fifty thousand soldiers between both sides."

"I'm not surprised." Fox said, crouched by the fire. "Over a dozen gods are calling their followers to them."

"It is not the number of soldiers coming that disturbs me." Falco said carefully. "It's that the seasoned generals and so on around here predict less then twenty thousand are walking away."

"Sixty percent losses?" Katt gaped.

"Or more." Falco confirmed.

There was a long moment of silence.

"And that's what's being said at the black camp too." Bill said, walking up. "A few of their messengers just left. Looks like they're getting ready to break camp same as we are. There's going to be about a thousand walking toward that gate at once, and that's just these two campsites."

"Here's something not many know." Alan and Sashima joined the fireside. "The Jack's moving out. The Army of the Bayou is over a thousand strong unto itself. I'm not sure how many he's bringing, but it's a good portion of the entire force."

"I'm not surprised." Rita sighed, shaking her head. "He's going to get revenge… or he's going to die trying."

Less then an hour later, camp broke, and Fox's group was one of the leading parties. There wasn't a set road, so they made one, the two sides moving in decent companionship for now. It was still several hours' ride to the way gate, and the groups weren't able to stay complete separate, but the party still glanced up in surprise when Titus and a few other Fists of Hextor fell in step with them.

"What you are is getting around, McCloud. Aren't you being kind of sloppy?" Titus remarked absently. "Gods know it spread to my camp."

"I'm sure what you are has spread as well." Fox replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "You _are a Hallowed, are you not?"_

"Not hardly." Titus snorted softly. "Merely a Fist, and glad for that much."

"Stop bothering him, Albrecht." Falco snapped after a moment. "Haven't you caused him enough hurt?"

"It's all right, Falco, I don't care." Fox said.

Titus, at the same time, said, "No more then he has caused me, Guild Leader Lombardi... huh." He paused, squinting up into the sun. "That's odd. The dragons were supposed to go directly to the campsites…"

Fox also looked up, shading his eyes, then laughed out loud. "That's not exactly a dragon, that's a construct."

Falco also laughed, then roared up to the skies, "Jordan! What are YOU doing here?!"

Jordan took that as a cue and dove right at the convoy, which started to scatter in panic before he backwinged and landed beside them, pacing Fox. "Hello, fearless leader!" He replied, a grin warping his skeletal face. "Hello, Falco, everyone else. I'm here for the same reasons as you are. I'm answering the call. Erias wished me come here and was even nice enough to direct me to you so I could arrive as you did…" He trailed off, lowering his head and looking at Titus, then snorted hard enough Titus' cape flapped. "YOU again?" He looked at Fox, opening his mouth.

"Don't even ask if you can eat him, you'll be destroyed on the spot."

Jordan closed his mouth, then shrugged. "All right, then."

The rest of the time traveling was without surprises, the convoy stringing out along the new road. The first parties reached the way gate in the early afternoon.

"Oh, wow…" Slippy remarked, leaning back in his saddle and staring up.

"Well, it has to be big enough to admit large creatures." Said Jordan, rearing on his hind legs. "I'd still bump my head, this way."

"No one asked you, friend." Falco remarked, knowing those behind them were still soundly spooked by the arrival of a wrack dragon.

"Well, I suppose this is where we part ways." Fox remarked, looking at Titus and his companions. "Good luck."

"Bad, you mean." Titus smiled a touch, and paced the party as they walked through the gate.

Thunder clapped, wind blew, and the party's mounts staggered a bit as they suddenly were standing at the top of a large hill, staring down at what had to be the largest campsite they had ever seen. It sprawled the entirety of an absolutely huge valley. Off in the distance, many miles away, they could see a small patch of mountains, surrounded by blackened clouds that stubbornly refused to let the sun drive them away.

            "Oh, my god." Said Julian reverently, staring down at the campground.

            "I guess that would be the point, wouldn't it?" Alan said, smiling a touch. "Speaking of gods, which gods have representatives here, Fox?" He turned to his fearless leader.

            "Every good-aligned god, and some neutral ones as well." He replied, eyes tracing over the camp, picking out the different sectors. Some of the tents were just huge—the three largest were command, mess, and hospital, he supposed. The camp had arranged itself by god, though there was a good amount of intermingling, and different sections were marked by flag or floating insignias. Some were more obvious then others, of course. "Well, let's go then." He urged his unicorn into a canter, leading the group down the hill, Jordan bounding along behind them.

            The camp had been shielded, of course, a fact which became obvious once they came close. They slowed and followed a just-made road to the apparent gate, which was being guarded by a centaur.

            "Well, you're an interesting herd." The centaur smiled tiredly. "You're McCloud right? Heironeous has express orders for you. You're all cleared. Look for the fireworks." He turned to Jordan. "As for you, dragons go that way." He pointed, and Jordan grumbled under his breath and went.

            "Fireworks?" Rita wondered as they dismounted, passing their reins over to a few elves standing nearby and walking into the camp.

            "He's not kidding."

            The group jumped, recognizing the voice, and looked down as one.

            "Cat, what are you doing here?" Said Elgar in bewilderment

            "Bendel's here, thus, so am I." The pseudo-necromantic familiar yawned widely, showing chipped fangs. "And it seems no matter where I am, I'm the messenger." He eyed the group. "So, listen up the lot of you. Fox, Peppy, Tempest, Alan, you're heading for the command tent, and I suggest you hurry. I'm supposed to show the rest of you around and show you where you'll be camping."

            The four named glanced at each other, shrugged, and moved on in the direction the cat indicated. The others fell in behind the cat, listening to it.

            "… mess hall's over there, I suggest you try to arrive early for meals unless you all want to get flattened. There's a wide variety of foods, given the different species here, and with that said, try not to stare too much at anyone. Pretty much anything is available there, except alcohol. If you want that, you'll have to barter with the elves."

            "Why exactly are you telling us that?" Fara wanted to know.

            "Because within an hour of being here, you'll all want a drink." The cat replied with a straight face. "This place is absolute bedlam."

            "So that's what's meant by 'fireworks,' eh?" Alan remarked.

            The four were about fifty yards from the command tent, and as they watched, an explosion of light and noise happened above it, some of the tent sides flapping to accompany it. Even from here they could hear the shouting.

            "Yes, and apparently the discussions aren't proceeding well." Fox sighed. "Well, come on, apparently we're all wanted there."

            "It isn't bothering you at all that we've been summoned to speak to gods?" Tempest remarked.

            "Why should it bother him? It happens to him all the time." Alan replied.

            There was no guard at the door, so they slipped under the flap, and stopped, gaping. Over a dozen avatars were within the tent, standing or sitting around a large table, and several were having an all-out fight. Explosions of power thundered through the tent as those fighting seemed borderline on going to war themselves. Those not fighting seemed tired and exasperated.

            "… Look, the point is we don't know!" Shouted a regal elf, scowling up at a muscular human. "All intelligence reports are completely inconclusive!"

            "Are you saying something about my scouts?!" Demanded a nearby centaur, stamping a hoof and making the ground rumble in the process.

            "I'm saying nothing about your scouts! I'm saying we shouldn't make any sort of plans, especially risky ones, when we don't know for sure what positions are! They've got themselves pretty well shrouded! We don't know anything!"

            A slightly-glowing lion at the table moaned and rubbed his eyes, huffing to himself. Next to him, a Bengal tiger and a stag looked generally annoyed.

            "That's Corellon, Kord, and Skerrit fighting, right?" Alan muttered, eyes bouncing from face to face. "Everyone's accounted for. I don't see Olidammara though. Hey Fox, was Heironeous' avatar a tiger last you saw him?"

            "A wolf, actually, but I guess when you're a god it doesn't matter." Fox replied, fighting the urge to grin. Here they were, all gods or demigods, and they were fighting worse then most mortals did.

            Said tiger glanced at him, then stood and cleared his throat, leaning into the table. "Excuse me, gentlemen." He said quietly.

            They ignored him. "Look, we've got some pretty good ideas. I think we need to start making plans before they do. THEY have the high ground, not us…" Kord started.

            "Fine, you can kill your own troops on your assumptions…" Corellon snapped.

            "Gentlemen…" Heironeous repeated.

            "The problem isn't terrain you fools, the problem is that we don't have…" 

            "SHUT UP!" Heironeous roared. "You're embarrassing me in front of my disciple!"

            Alan started laughing, but that was pretty much the only noise in the next thirty or so seconds.

            "So, that's the disciple you're always bragging about, aye?" Said the dwarf at the end of the table. "Huhn. Looks kind of underfed to me…"

            "A pleasure to meet you too, Moradin." Fox replied, keeping his face straight, then turning back to Heironeous. "So. Having some problems, I take it?"

            "Don't get cheeky." His god replied. "And yes, we are. We gathered together for safety's sake, but we seem to have forgotten just how bloody incompatible we all are."

            "Gather us all in one room and watch reason fly out the window." The stag, which was St. Cuthbert's current avatar, snorted, shaking his head.

            "I imagine that isn't the reason you asked for us to come here, though." Tempest said, looking like he was slowly getting used to the fact that everyone he was looking at was a god of some sort.

            "We need mortals sitting in, and it seemed best that those who saved the world the last time do so." Said Corellon, sitting down and rubbing a temple.

            "Beg pardon, Lord, but I wasn't involved in that."

            "There are… other reasons for you to be here." Was the careful reply. "It seemed that Erias thought you should be here, and, well… sometimes Erias knows more then most of us."

            "You were invited on a hunch. Get used to it." Alan whacked Tempest on the back. "So, you guys have come to us mortals for help? I imagine we're not the only ones asked, right?"

            "I wouldn't go so far as to call you mortal." Pelor replied, making Alan laugh. "You aren't even of this particular earth anymore. And no, you aren't the only or the first 'mortals' we have invited into the tent."

            "You'd be surprised how helpless they are, considering they're gods." Remarked a familiar voice, and Bendel strolled in from behind the group, the cat following, looking bored. "Hello again, Fox." He saw the look, and smiled. "That bastard of a black sorcerer told you, didn't he? I'm going to have to have some words with Momus, his loud mouth gets me in trouble."

            "No kidding. I take it that it's true then?" Peppy asked.

            "What, about me being a half-fiend? Yes. And Dikar, leader of Mezobarlin, is a half-celestial. Don't ask, it's complicated." He set a stack of maps on the table. "Have a seat, all of you."

            The avatars and more earthly beings got as comfortable as they could, then Pelor sighed. "I suppose that I'm still in charge of conversation. That said, does anyone have an idea where to start?"

            "How about a general debriefing? We just got here, and it might be dangerous to infer anything." Said Tempest, still taking a long look around at who he was sitting with.

            "I imagine you saw the mountains when you came in." Pelor opened a large map, which showed the valley and the mountain range. "Basically, everyone on our side is camped out in this valley, while our darker friends have staked out the mountain range. It's not really a coincidence, apparently a group of hags had gathered there to try to resurrect their fallen leader, and were a bit surprised when all the gods and their followers started showing up. Regardless, the entire mountain range is shrouded, and we haven't been able to get any accurate reports on positions, numbers, or anything else. The way gates have given us some general ideas, but other then that, we're pretty much in the dark."

            "Many in the mortal world like to think we're all-knowing, but the basic truth is that when gods face gods, the playing field is even." Said Corellon, rubbing a temple. "We can be all-knowing in some aspects of the _mortal world, but we're up against our own. That means that any 'godly' tricks we have are useless. Worse, most of us here haven't used our avatars in ages, so we have to get used to the restriction again. While these bodies we are in are powerful, it still doesn't compare to what we're used to." He shrugged. "It's very unnerving to sit around with the basic knowledge that yes, you can be killed, even if it wouldn't be permanent."_

            "That said, maybe we've gotten too high-and-mighty for our own good." Tanil said somewhat sourly. "It's what did in my father and it's what will do in us, if we're not careful."

            "Don't start that argument again." Garl shook his head, sitting cross-legged on the table instead of using a chair. "It's one of there reasons we haven't gotten anything done today…"

            "I'm here, sorry I'm late… Oh, hello Fox, Peppy. I'm not surprised that you're here." Said a new voice as another armored figure entered the tent.

            "General Pepper." Peppy raised an eyebrow. "You too?"

            "Me and about fifty others from the army." Pepper sighed, taking a seat. "The others will be back soon, I think they got lost. This place is horridly laid out." He remarked to Pelor frankly.

            "Don't remind us." Was the bitter reply. "We didn't have time to plan it."

            "That said, maybe the first thing we should do is make this place more organized and efficient." Fox said, rubbing his eyes. "It wouldn't be totally unlike the dark gods to suddenly hit us from nowhere, and disorganization may be the death of us all in that circumstance."

            "Probably a good idea, but it's going to be hell to get people to move their camps." Said Moradin.

            "So order them around. Not like they can argue." Alan replied.

            "True enough." Heironeous shrugged. "So where do we start?"

            "The entire camp is being rearranged?" Katt blinked, helping collapse the just-set-up tents.

            "Apparently, and I'm willing to bet Fox has something to do with it." Falco grunted, shouldering his pack. "This place was arranged by deity, but now it's being broken down by division, so to speak. More guard towers are being put up, et cetera. The only things staying solid are the three main tents."

            "It makes sense though." Bill said, carrying tent poles. "I agree with the cat, this place is utter chaos. Anything to make things more orderly would be appreciated, at least by me." He added this, having already gotten lost twice.

            Slippy appeared with a slight burst of light, looking tired. "Katt, Rita, you're recruited. We have to help reprogram the shields."

            "Uh, all right then." The two girls passed their packs over to other group members, and disappeared with Slippy.

            "Let's just hope this is being done right this time." Julian said, shouldering Rita's pack. "Because let's face it, doing this again would be hell."

            "They're pretty entrenched up there." Pepper said, looking at the floating map and rubbing his chin. "Are these positions confirmed?"

            "Yes indeed." Heironeous jabbed a finger at the glowing markers. Most of the avatars had left the tent to help rearrange the camp, but Heironeous, Pelor, and Denev remained to discuss things. "They've been planning this for ages… I'm stunned we didn't catch wind of it until the last minute. The gods have been winding up to another war for decades, and this is the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak."

            "I knew, it's just no one listened." Denev grumbled, crossing her arms and looking annoyed.

            "We've been busy elsewhere, and we apologize for that." Pelor held up his hands in submission. "What we have marked is what we know about for certain, and we don't think they change formation often… what we've seen looks permanent for at least the duration of this."

            "I don't like this." Tempest shook his head. "Look at the way they're setting up." He gestured at the markers, his hands making the image ripple. "They've set themselves up for defense. They're waiting for us."

            "Agreed." Fox said. "We can't attack that mountain peak. We'll be slaughtered if we try to."

            "So what then?" Pelor asked, glancing at the mortals curiously. "I agree that their position is a lot better then ours. Even after we call down the holy armies, the archangels and thus forth, a greater portion of our forces is grounded, and they have the high ground."

            "Hunter's philosophy." Alan said, sitting on the table. "A good hunter waits, a bad hunter chases. Right Fox?" He added. "We draw them out. Make them come to us. That way, we pick the ground."

            "Theoretically sound." Heironeous said, crossing his arms and eyeing the enemy positions on the map. "But how do we go about doing that? We have nothing they need, so they have no reason to come after us, and we outnumber them in the first place."

            "If Mormo rises, the numbers won't matter much." Denev said firmly.

            "In other words, we'd best move soon." Peppy looked at the map. "Do we have any idea when exactly the ritual is being performed?"

            "Espionage is a little hard to do in this sort of war." Pelor smiled a bit. "But we have ideas. We think it's linked to the phases of the moon."

            "Full moon?"

            "New, we think."

            "That gives us… about six days. Maybe less." Fox shook his head.

            Light flickered, and Corellon appeared, wiping at sweat. "Camp's nearly done. The last of the towers are being built now."

            "Good." Heironeous said. "One problem solved."

            "Not a moment too late, either." The elf added as bells rang signifying evening meal was starting. "What's being discussed now? Battle plans?"

            "Yes indeed. We'll have to consult everyone else, but we think that attacking the mountain peak itself would be impossible. They're simply too prepared." Said Pelor. "Thus we have to come up with alternate means to stop the rise of Mormo."

            "They're not going to come after us on their own, I can tell you that." Corellon shook his head. "I heard some of Skerrit's scouts talking. Apparently the dragons are starting to arrive. We're not going to make the foothills without loosing half our force, but they're clearly not coming after us anytime soon."

            There was a long silence.

            "I suggest we break to eat and get some rest, and continue our discussion in the morning." Pepper finally said. "We clearly need some time to think, and I for one am starved."

            "Well, if we can't fight them directly, what do we do?" Falco wanted to know. The four had rejoined the campfire, and Fox had just finished explaining what had happened in the time they were gone.

            "We're not sure yet." Fox admitted. "That's why I'm telling all of you…"

            "It is clear that 'all' is a larger number then before." Alan observed, gesturing. Everyone within twenty feet of the camp was eavesdropping. When he mentioned it, some apologies were shouted.

            "All right, let's do this town hall style then." Falco rubbed his chin, then kicked a nearby crate on its side and leapt on top of it. "All right, gather around. You're officially invited." He shouted, and promptly all camps that heard joined the fire. Then he leapt down and gestured to Fox.

            Fox sighed, stepping onto the crate. "You all heard. Any ideas?" He asked frankly. "We've got less then six days before everything happens, and then it's too late."

            There was a silence, then everyone started talking at once. Alan politely bashed everyone near him with his wine bottle until order was restored.

            "One at a time." Fox said firmly, then gestured at a group of dwarves. "You were some of the first to start talking. What do you have to say about it?"

            "Ground forces are totally out, right?" Said one. "And we're talking about drawing them out, correct?"

            "That's about the summation, yes."

            "Mines. Sneak some of our people close and make the area around the mountain a minefield. Send some of our units in close, lead them off right into the explosives."

            "Your mines cause too much collateral damage." An elf shook his head. "Anyone, friend or foe, will be killed."

            "Did I ask you?" The dwarf demanded, poking the elf in the chest.

            "All right, that's enough." Fox snapped. "You're all allies, so act like it."

            "Here's a question I'm sure all of us have." A follower of Kord stood. "Why did the gods ask for you, and why are YOU in charge of this meeting?"

            "I have my reasons." Was the flat reply. When he saw that that answer wasn't going to work, he sighed, bowing his head and opening his arms. Because his god was so close, the power leapt to meet him, and he felt the halo form, wings opening off his back as he lifted his head to look at the gathered group, which had taken a step back unanimously. Only then did he let the power leave, wings disappearing and halo fading. "That is why. I'm Hallowed. If any of you wish to contest, you can, but you'll have to best me to gain command over me."

            "In case any of you are wondering, that's never been done." Fara said, crossing her arms.

            "Now that that is settled, let's get back to business. Mines have been mentioned…" Fox looked at Slippy, and the idea appeared in midair, letters glowing against the dark. "Any other ideas?" He looked around, and saw a group of gadget masters frantically waving hands. "Yes?"

            "We just finished setting up long-range artillery." Said one proudly. "We can hit the mountains from here with accuracy of about ten feet."

            "That's not much." Grumbled an orc.

            "Those mountains are a mile and a half away, at least." Said a gnome. "So that's excellent. But we need that shroud to be gone. Otherwise, we're just pounding clouds and guessing at what's beneath."

            "More explosives. Check." Fox sighed as the idea came up under the mines.

            By the time the meeting was adjourned, Fox had a list of about a dozen ideas to propose to the council of the gods, but it was fairly clear to everyone that without accurate information, they weren't going to be able to do much of everything. Fox's group spent most of the night speculating, trying to come up with someplace they could get information. It was Julian, though, that had the stroke of genius.

            "What?" The council of the gods all blinked at Fox.

            "You heard me. Resurrect him, call his spirit, I don't care what you do. I need Wolf O'Donnel here now." Fox said.

            "I've heard of him." Ehlonna chewed on a nail, looking uneasy. "And I'm not sure that's a good idea. He was under Hextor all his life. Heavenfire, he was another Hallowed."

            "I know that." Fox sighed. "But he didn't die under Hextor." He looked at Heironeous.

            "He died under my service." Said Heironeous heavily. "He sacrificed himself to protect my disciple from Hextor during a fight. He was stunned when he arrived in my halls, needless to say."

            "You're kidding." Garl laughed out loud. "Well, that is quite a turnaround. But what use is he to us?"

            "I think I've caught on." Said Kord. "Insider information. You think he'll be able to give us information on Hextor's strategies… and we all think Hextor is the ringleader of this operation."

            "Exactly. We can't do anything until we get information. This might be the best place to start." Said Peppy.

            "And hell, he's already dead, so what harm can he do?" Alan said somewhat philosophically.

            "All right, I'm willing to bring him down here… what is going on?" Heironeous stood, frowning toward the tent flap.

            The alarm bells were starting to ring through the camp, shouts coming from the direction of the camp entrance.  Moments later a messenger skidded in, one of the centaurs from the gate, panting. "We're being approached by another force." She said after gaining her breath. "And given the leader is riding a black unicorn, we thought it best to sound the alarm."

            "Sound familiar to you?" Alan lifted his eyebrows, taking a drink from his flask.

            His friends just looked at him for a moment, then shook their heads and followed the centaur back to the entrance.

            "And people wonder why I don't deal with any gods. They lack hospitality." Said the Jack in a frank voice, leaning on the pommel of his saddle and scowling daggers at the small force that had gathered between him and the camp. Spread out behind him were about fifty of his elite soldiers, and directly to his right was the Baron Mirth, riding a blood mare. The Baron didn't look the happiest either.

            "What are you doing here, black sorcerer?" Asked an Elven general, holding a quivering arcane bow, string pulled and ready to let three arrows fly.

            "Why should I talk to you? You're below me." The Jack snapped. His mount lowered its head, pawing the ground, growling deep in its chest. "It's none of your damn business, elf."

            "That's enough, already." Heironeous elbowed through the crowd, leading Fox's group and the others from the tent. "Well, well, well. The Jack of Tears. It's … an honor, I suppose. What do you want with us?"

            "Hi boss." Alan wove.

            "Afternoon, Alan." The Jack smiled a bit, then looked at Heironeous. "Do you care?" He asked flatly. "Or are you worried I'm here to kill your soldiers and spread my plague?"

            "I think that's a valid worry." Said Moradin, looking at the Jack with a look of vague disgust.

            The Jack returned the look. "You have no dealings with me, god of Dwarves. The only god that has dealings with me is Saint Cuthbert, and that is only for the time being. I forsook the gods as they forsook me, many years ago."

            The council all looked at the stag, who blinked, staring at the Jack. "He's right." Cuthbert said finally. "I can't deny him that. He's here on his own mission, but it's the same as ours."

            "These are just my elites. My army is over eight-hundred strong and can be here at a wave of my hand." Said the Jack, staring at the gods. "I'm here to see that Mormo does not walk this earth again, or ever. Are you going to help me, or not?"

            There was a long silence.

            "As you are my former follower, I will vouch for you… for now." Said Corellon, eyes narrowed. "Your people are welcome to camp here. But betray me, Etharan, and I swear that I will see you suffer."

            "I suffer eternally. There is not much you can do to me, Larethian." The Jack cackled. "Glad to know I'm welcome. I'll let the good Baron set up our camp, I think I shall accompany all of you. Break up your little pow-wow, did I?"

            Corellon threw up his hands and stalked back in the direction of the command tent. The others followed, the Jack smugly bringing up the rear.


	10. Chapter Ten: Tempest's Requiem

Section Ten: Tempest's Requiem

            "Any way you slice this, it's going to be risky." Peppy huffed, looking at the floating map.

            "No kidding. I can't find any way to cut down the possible losses either." Pepper snarled and shoved a table over, fur bristling.

            "Enough, enough. Anger isn't going to help." Heironeous hurriedly said, holding his hands up in submission.

            "Maybe not, but I'm not going to stand for the sixty percent losses that have been predicted." Pepper replied. "Luring them down is the best move, but we're discussing air attacks and high explosives, things that cause so much damage we'll wipe out our own people. We'll do as much damage as hitting the mountain directly."

            "I wouldn't suggest waiting." Fox said after a moment, staring at the map. "They'll finish what they're doing, and then they'll come after us just to prove a point."

            "Astute of you." Remarked a new voice.

            "Evening, Wolf." Alan said cheerfully as everyone else blinked. "About time you got here."

            "Commuting is a pain." Wolf managed a partial smile. He was still dressed in the livery of Heironeous' archangel army, and the wings on his back were battered and burned. "Learn a bit from facing me, Fox?"

            "It was an enlightening experience." Fox smiled, shaking hands with his old enemy absently. "I'm very glad that I no longer have to do so, though."

            "As am I. Your father says hello. As does yours." He added, glancing at Tempest, who looked soundly disturbed by this. "To continue the discussion, I agree with what Fox said. They're going to hit you hard as soon as Mormo returns, with intent to wipe everyone out, the better to prove that they can not be stopped." He walked over to the map, gesturing. Symbols glowed above his hands, and the map moved willingly. "The dragons will probably lead, then ground troops, sweeping what's left over from the dragons' hits…" Indicators traced across the map, showing example attack patterns. "Or that's how Hextor used to work. You're not as entrenched here as they are, and they'll use it to their advantage."

            Tempest sighed, watching the discussions continue, and slipped out of the tent, walking down the newly-worn path and heading toward the entrance. "I'm going for a walk."

            "Go ahead." Replied one of the gnomes. A group of them was sitting by the entrance, playing cards and generally watching the door. Because of the rotation, any race could be doing guard duty at any time.

            Whistling, Tempest watched as his horse leapt the paddock fence and galloped up, snorting. Sighing to himself, he swung up bareback and left the area of the camp, going up the side of the valley. The trees were thicker here, and he saw power glyphs for Obad-hai, Ehlonna, and Corellon floating on the outskirts. He stopped when he saw the last one, staring at it, then rode on, going deeper into the small forest then dismounting, sitting beneath a tree absently.

            "Nice try."

            He shot a foot in the air, then snapped to his feet. "Even if you are a god, I wanted to be alone, Larethian." He finally snarled, scowling at the elf.

            "So, you did." Corellon shrugged. "I can definitely understand why you didn't want to be there. Being trapped in a room full of avatars has to be an uncomfortable experience."

            "Yes, especially avatars of gods _you don't believe in._" He crossed his arms, scowling.

            "Ouch." Corellon winced. "You have fallen out of believing then."

            "I stopped believing when I saw my father die." Tempest spat. "When I saw one of my fellows betray the town I grew up in, when I saw it burn. A town you protected, Larethian! What reasons did you give me to keep following you?!" When Corellon just looked at him, he moaned, shoulders shaking, rubbing one of his eyes. "I remember it every time I see reflection. This damnable scar never goes away, and to top it off, the man who destroyed my family is still alive and seems set on finishing the job." He set his jaw, staring at the avatar. "I have no reasons to believe in you."

            "Perhaps." The elf folded his hands behind his back, started to walk by, then paused. "Walk with me. It's time we talked."

            "Why should I?"

            "Why shouldn't you? You know your family survives yet in my realm, and I am the gatekeeper to that realm." He lifted an eyebrow. "So why shouldn't you?"

            Tempest stared, then bowed his head. "How can you be so cruel as to taunt me with that?"

            "Because it's making you walk. Besides, who said I was taunting you?"

            Unable to stand it any more, Tempest swung, knocking the god to the ground in one hit. "How dare you?! How dare you play games with me?! Is my life just entertainment to you?!"

            "I don't care what Heironeous says, you are quite a bit more brave then his disciple." Corellon grumbled to himself, holding his bleeding nose. "At least in that McCloud wouldn't dare strike his own deity."

            "You aren't my deity anymore. Get used to it." Tempest started to stalk away.

            "Don't you want to know WHY I didn't help?"

            He froze in midstep, looking over his shoulder.

            "I watched what happened, Himo Galanodel. I watched the city fall and I mourned the entire time." He staggered to his feet, shaking off, still working on stopping the nosebleed. 

            "Then why didn't you help? So many had to be praying that night for some sort of assistance. Why didn't you answer those prayers?!"

            "Are you assuming that just because I happen to be a god, I can help and make everything better?" Corellon's voice dripped sarcasm. "Not so. Even I operate under restrictions, Himo. All I can do is help. I provide magic, I can heal followers on some occasions, I can lead. Sometimes, if the time is right, I can arrange miracles. _But even I cannot interfere with the workings of fate!_ When sentience was granted to so many of the races, it was granted with the knowledge that we would never step in and assume control. That was why the titans were taken out. They wanted to be in control, and we knew that would be the worst possible thing." He lowered his hands from his nose and sniffled. "Your will is your own, my child, and therefore, your fate is your own. That is why no matter how badly I wanted to, no matter how much pain it caused me, I could not save your village. Or your family."

            Tempest clenched his jaw, hands curling back into fists, voice shaking as he fought tears. "Heironeous sends messages to his followers! Why wouldn't you contact one of our priests and warn them in advance?!" Unable to resist any longer, he broke down, tears starting to run.

            "All Gods send messengers to their followers." Was the heavy reply. "But we can only tell what we know, Himo. No god is all-knowing and let no one tell you different. We're simply able to read minds, make damned good predictions. We get lucky a lot, but we can be wrong." Corellon sighed, bowing his head. "Maybe if I was merely in charge of your village, or even the country you were in, I could have caught it in time. But I'm in charge of all Elves on the planet, and I can only be in one place at a time. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. I had to call in a favor to even save you. I still owe that gold dragon, even if he did show up barely in time."

            Tempest reached a hand up to his scarred eye, other hand still curled into a fist. "How can you say you didn't have enough time? It was a three day march from the nearest entrance to the Underdark to my home. Surely even you could tell something was happening when an army of heavily armed Drow is heading towards a city that regarded you above everything else!"

            "Again, you overstate my powers. I have nothing to do with the dealings of the Drow and their Underdark. It is Lolth that controls them and spurns them to destroy my people. I try to keep an eye on the Underdark, but it is not my domain and never will be. When I heard the pleas for salvation against the attack, I did what I could. I saved you."

            "That is the other thing I have never understood! You couldn't save my family and my people, so why did you bother with saving me? An arrow pierced my heart as well as Heian's blade but you let me live! My father was as loyal a follower as any of your Hallowed but you didn't make the effort to be there in time to save him!"

            "Because as long as the blood lives, hope is not lost." Was the heavy reply. "I tried! There was no way to incarnate close enough to save your family, no time to send my more otherworldly fighters, so I did what I was able to, and it wasn't enough. The dragon told me that you were all that was left. Mortally wounded, the only life left in a ruined city. I was able to channel power to that dragon so you could be healed. Your family was once one of my finest, and I will proudly say that. I will not let something I am proud of die if I can prevent it. The Galanodel lineage lives on in you. That is why I healed you."

            Tempest's body quivered with silent sobs. "Why the scar? Why leave it? Why? Why didn't you contact me? I woke up in a dragon's cave with nothing but my sword and this damn scar to remember my life. My mother, father, wife I saw them all butchered, and not once in twenty years did you event attempt to try and speak to me. I tried to tell myself that you'd come to me and try to help me. I stopped that after two years of waiting. I spent 20 years of my life hunting thieves and bandits. No one who knew my past would take me in!" Tempest hugged himself, his nails drawing blood as his fists grew tighter. "And when I went to that dragon and pleaded for answers, and he refused to give me any, I would have done anything to feel a comforting touch if even for a moment…" He slowly fell to his knees, shoulders shaking. Corellon crouched in front of him, one hand loosely clasping one of his shoulders. "All...I wanted was one instant of comfort...but…" Tempest's voice broke, and it was several minutes before he was able to speak again. "Why me?" He finally asked, voice shaking and distant. "Why my family?"

            Corellon sighed, looking away, staring into the distance. "There was a reason why I didn't answer your prayers, Himo. It would have endangered you if I had. Those that attacked your city found out that someone had survived, and they spent several years trying to find you, because Lolth knew how highly I regarded the Galanodels. I turned my eyes from you because I knew that doing so would help protect you. By the time I judged it safe to contact you and explain, the heavens were starting to rock with conflict again, and I could not stay out of it." He sighed again. "As for your scar, that was not my doing. It's from Heian's blade. There are curses that can cause forever-bleeding wounds… think of that scar as a stigmata of sorts." He fell silent for a moment, then met Tempest's eyes again. "I will take care of that now. You've hurt enough." And with that he covered the scar with his own hand, letting the restoring magic only gods possess close the wound gradually. "I'm not going to ask you to come back to my following. I've caused you too much harm, even if it was indirectly, to do that. But know that I exist, and that I am here." He lowered his hand, leaving a permanently sealed scar. "In case you ever do need me." And with a flicker of light, Corellon disappeared, returning to the command tent and leaving Tempest alone. 

            "Find who you were looking for?" The gnomes glanced up when Corellon wandered back by, having teleported to just outside the camp.

            "Yes indeed." He smiled slightly, though it was bitter, and strode down the path toward the command tent, those recognizing him hastily getting out of his way. The fact that he was still trying to stop his nosebleed helped, if anything it added shock factor. He huffed out a sigh. That was the problem with stepping down to Avatar form. Gods normally weren't able to bleed.

            Those in the command tent paused their discussions when he came back in. They hadn't asked when he had left, but they were just as surprised by his bloody nose as his followers. 

Moradin burst into laughter. "What happened to you, Larethian?"

"Heironeous owes me fifty platinum, that's what happened." Corellon walked over and sat at the newly-righted table, reaching over and snitching Ehlonna's handkerchief. She glared at him, but he ignored it.

"What?" Heironeous blinked.

"Remember a while ago when we had the 'my-disciple-is-better-then-yours' argument?" Corellon looked at him. "I rest my case on mine's bravery. The little Elven bastard just decked me."

Garl choked on his drink.

Fox looked from one to the other, and had the helpless feeling he was taking care of toddlers, not associating with gods. "Excuse me. I can assume that you're discussing Tempest and myself. I don't believe that courage is measurable, but I do know that I would never have the gall to deck my god."

"Well, Heironeous hasn't given you nearly as many reasons to hate him as I've given Tempest to hate me." Corellon muttered. "Can we return to the business at hand?" He made a gesture of dismissal, and the others shrugged and got back to the matter of discussion. 

"We were proposing the idea of a fast attack with a small force…" Kord started.

            "But a fast attack seems too perilous to me." Madriel sighed, staring up at the map. While Corellon had been gone, Wolf had explained every tactic he knew that the dark gods used, and it was becoming more and more apparent that the light forces were solidly wedged between a rock and a hard place.

            "We've got to draw them out somehow." Bendel said patiently. "We send in aerial units to pick on them, then pull out and lure them to us."

            "I doubt they'll follow. They aren't stupid." Said Corean, leaning on a table and fighting the urge to yawn. "Or at least, not if we just send a small party."

            "Blitz them, then. Charge in with a full force and hit them fast, so they don't have time to react." Said Pepper.

            "You forget we're being watched. We'll have to teleport in to have any chance of having the element of surprise." Said Ehlonna. "And mass teleports have power signatures that are easily readable."

            "Oh, will you all just shut up?" Said the Jack in an irritated voice. "Stop hedging. We're getting absolutely nowhere." He rubbed his eyes, lips curled just barely into a snarl, tail lashing. "We've got no time to argue. Forget the losses. If we don't win, every generation, every person on this damnable planet will suffer for it." He scowled at all of the avatars and mortals. "And at that cost, no death toll is too high to stop it."

            "Says you!" Garl shouted. "I'm not going to lead my people into a fight with the knowledge that none will walk away!"

            "Hear, hear!" Said Bahamut, sprawled across part of the tent. He had sized himself down, but was still a good fifteen feet long.

            "All due respect to you, my dark friend, it's only natural you don't care about people dying. You're numb to it, and most of your followers are dead anyway." Bendel remarked, handing the Jack a glass of raspberry reaper.

            The Jack swallowed the entire glass in a gulp. "Burn eternally, Bendel."

            "And may an angel kiss you, Momus."

            "And WE are supposed to shut up?" Pelor asked, both amused and annoyed. "I agree that we do not have time to argue, but so far no one has come up with a foolproof idea. Unless someone has something new to add…"

            "I do."

            Everyone glanced up as Tempest wandered back in, eyes red from his tears and rubbing blood off his hands where his nails had cut in. Alan tossed him a bottle of wine, which Tempest caught and promptly drank half of.

            "Well, fire away then." Moradin finally said.

            "They're weak at the back." Tempest wandered over, already being hit by the Elven wine, looking at the map. "They've got to be. Otherwise they wouldn't have the predicted numbers up front here." He poked the wine bottle at the displayed positions and their accompanying numbers. "I mean, we know how many are there right, more or less?"

            "Of course. About as many as are here." Said Heironeous, then paused. "I see where you're going with this. They don't have enough to staff the entire mountain like that."

            "Exactly." Tempest took another drink. 

            "How high is that mountain?" Bahamut asked, poking the map with a massive claw. "My silver dragons were saying it's comfortable for them, if it wasn't for the dark forces massing they'd be living there."

            "Which means most humans wouldn't be able to breathe very well." Corellon said, starting to grin. He was rather worried at how horrid Tempest looked, but there wasn't much he could do about it at that moment. At least his nose had stopped bleeding. "Right?"

            "Same goes for dwarves. We're more suited for mines." Said Moradin.

            "Same here." Said Garl. "I imagine the only forces at the peak would be highly supernatural races, such as their compliment of dragons."

            There was a long silence, and smiles started to spread.

            "So hit them at the peak and at the back of the mountain, hard and fast, force them apart." Said Wolf, manipulating the map. 

"If we can bring the shroud down, we can hit everywhere at once." Said Denev. "I can rock the mountain, given some time, and we can do artillery strikes once the air is clear."

"Not to mention if they run down, they'll hit anyone left at the camp." Said Kord.

There was another long silence.

"Do you have any idea how hard is going to be to time all that?" Yondalla asked, sitting on Pelor's shoulder.

"It's better then nothing. Well folks, let's churn some numbers." Said Corellon. "We've got to get this thing figured out to the second."


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Jack's Redemption

Section Eleven: The Jack's Redemption

            Fox sighed, watching the sun go down. He was standing on one of the hills overlooking the camp, back toward the dark mountain.

            The last three days had been full of urgent preparation, and now there was less then twenty-four hours before the ceremony started. The current plan was to hit during the start of the procedure, in hopes to backfire it.

            "You haven't changed much."

            "Evening Wolf." Fox replied, glancing at the archangel. "What do you mean?"

            "I mean you have a bad habit of sneaking off alone." Wolf replied, moving to stand behind Fox, also staring at the sun, which now barely peeked over the horizon. Shadows were stretched long, and fires were coming to life all over the camp below them. The new camp arrangement had worked out perfectly.

            "Bad habit?"

            "Considering how close the advance scouts of our… friends have come, yes, bad habit." He sighed. "I wish you weren't here."

            "Come again?" Fox glanced at Wolf.

            "This is the worst place for you to be. You may beg to differ, being you're Hallowed, but that makes you as much a danger as an asset. Hextor wants to corrupt you, and he'll do almost anything to do so." Wolf sighed again.

            "I can't see that happening."

            "I didn't see myself ending up in Heironeous' halls."

            There was a long silence as the pair watched the moon rise.

            "That look a bit odd to you?"

            "Actually, yes… it's going dark too fast…" Fox paused, going over a calendar in his head. "Lunar eclipse." He finally concluded.

            The two looked at each other.

            "Oh, heavenfire. Wasn't the reason we said full moon for the ceremony the absence of moonlight…?" Wolf said slowly.

            "We're a day off." Fox said, and sprinted down the hill toward the camp, shouting at the top of his lungs. Even as he did, alarms started sounding. The gods had already seen the eclipse, and now all units were being called to arms. The camp dissolved into chaos briefly as everyone ran where they were supposed to be, collecting weapons and donning armor.

            "They're early. The bastards are early." Bendel was cursing when Fox arrived at the command tent, panting, as Wolf did.

            "Or we were going to be late." Said the Jack mildly with a shrug.

            "Don't even start with me, Momus." Bendel jabbed the Jack in the chest with a claw, then turned to the gods, who were already in armor and carrying weaponry. "Are we ready?"

            "As we'll ever be. It's just as well that it's happening tonight." Said Pelor.

            "Correction. It's happening now." Said Ehlonna, glancing up. "Power surge on the mountain. Sacrifices."

            "Let's move out then." Assorted gods disappeared to their designated areas, rallying their troops and preparing to attack. Even as they did, the gate alarms screamed, and the word "Ambush!" started circulating. Those staying at the base rallied to defend, waiting and watching as a dark wave poured down the mountain. Fox himself was one of those at the head of the defensive lines, both to his relief and dismay. Heironeous had elected him to the position, so he dealt with it as he could, and most of his group was also denoted to defend. Tempest was accompanying one of Corellon's first-strike groups, Falco was with the dragons, and both Alan and Sashima were with the Jack's units, doing a massive offensive against the mountain.

            "What are we left with of the force?" Fox asked, glancing one side, then blinking. Moradin was supposed to be standing nearby, but someone else had taken the position beside him.

            "About twenty percent. That's all that could be spared." James McCloud replied, leaning on the pommel of his saddle. "Everyone else is carrying out the plan. Which, I must say, isn't bad considering the circumstances." He grinned at Fox's bewilderment. "Hello again, son."

            "I thought you'd be with Heironeous' front lines."

            "I could have been, but I requested to be here."

            "So you're who he used to brag about?" Moradin asked, twirling his hammer around in circles absently as he eyed James. "You don't look like much."

            "I hear that's what you say about most disciples under other gods." James smiled a bit, then focused forward. "Here they come."

            "CHARGE!"

            Tempest paused mid-duel, looking down the mountain as the wave composed of the Blood Bayou army smashed into the mountain defenses and ran them over, the Jack of Tears in the lead. Corellon, Heironeous, and Pelor were the first gods to hit, coordinating an attack simultaneously as the dragons hit the peak and the flanks. So far, the attack had gone according to plan.

            He turned back to the matter at hand. His split-second pause had allowed the three he was facing to catch their breath, but he still didn't have much trouble defending against them and dispatching them, throwing the three—all followers of Erythnul—over the nearest cliff and charging back into the bloody fight. The suddenness of the attack had dispelled the cloud cover, but the moonless night made the fight even harder. Shadow-melding dark fighters sprang out of nothingness to stab you in the back, vampires charged in with the intent to rip out your throat, a thousand dangers from all directions. But the force of the light gods were doing damage, that was certain: they had forced their way up the mountain and were beginning to wrap around, the dragons having taken out everything toward the top, and the Jack's forces were picking off everything left and hiding.

            "Regroup!"

            This command rang across the field, Pelor's commanding, sun-bright voice, and instantly soldiers were stopping in mid-fight and partly retreating, gathering near their god, whose avatar hovered over the battlefield, golden-white wings slowly beating, intense glyphs spinning and appearing around him as mass-healing spells pulsed across those gathered. Not long later, Heironeous also called his soldiers back, and a surge of armored fighters gathered on the mountainside, medics and healers doing what they could about the wounds. Corellon's forces kept moving forward, patrolling what was already cleared, picking off remaining guards in towers, preventing their allies from getting hit.

            "All well enough so far." Corellon's voice remarked to Tempest, and a flutter of a minor healing spell passed through him, then the touch moved on.

            "Gods I wish he wouldn't do that." Tempest growled to himself, wiping off the blades of his sword and catching his breath. The mountainsides were slick with blood. He sighed, moving back toward where the soldiers were gathering. Other followers of Corellon were also slowly falling back, not wanting to proceed too far without decent support.

            Rocks clattered, and Tempest mindlessly spun and brought his sword up, blocking Heian's blade. The sharp clang rang through the cold air as they made a standoff, sword blades grinding together, glaring into each other's eyes.

            "How did you survive the wounds I gave you, Himo?" Heian hissed.

            "I have interesting friends." Tempest replied. "Who are you working for? Which dark god has promised you glory?"

            "I'm working for no one, old friend. Merely forwarding my best interests."

            "I have a hard time believing that."

            The two shoved away from each other, circled, and Tempest attacked, sword flashing around him. Heian blocked easily and countered, snarling when blood was drawn on one of his legs, returning the favor with a scratch up Tempest's arm. As the fight continued, the gods moved out again, and the ground rattled slightly as a trio of Blood Bayou golems thundered right by them, close enough to touch, only to be met by dark forces that sprang out of cover, screaming challenge.

            "That is enough!"

            Both were suddenly slammed with power, knocked apart and to the ground. Tempest snarled as he got to his feet, expecting one of the light gods, and gaped when he saw it was Lolth herself. She had chosen to incarnate as a Drow, a stately but deeply evil Matron Mother. A many-headed whip was coiled at her belt, as well as a slender-bladed sword which was still dripping blood from her last kill.

            "Nerrivous, I made myself perfectly clear." Remarked the avatar in a cutting voice, walking forward, wrapping her hand around the hilt of her sword.

            "Himo Galanodel is _my adversary_, Lolth!" Heian spat, getting to his feet. "I told you that before!"

            "And I told you the Galanodels are MY sacrifices, filthy surface elf!" She snarled in reply. "You were supposed to kill him years ago, and you didn't! I should have had you hunted down as a sacrifice just for disobeying me!"

            "Burn in the daylight, dark goddess." He spat in reply. "You aren't going to stop me from getting my revenge."

            "Perhaps. But they will." Lolth grinned, and a large group of Drow fighters appeared, circling both Tempest and Heian, weapons drawn. "Kill them both." She commanded. "And make it as painful as you can."

            Tempest exchanged a look with his enemy. "Fine bloody mess you've gotten yourself in to." He remarked as the two automatically turned back to back, watching for the first Drow to attack.

            "You forget my first rule of war." Was the simple reply. "Always have a second plan." And with that, he disappeared. 

At nearly the same time a dark form almost landed on top of the circle, and there was a rather angry snort. "Gods damn it. He would have made a nice snack too. You'll do." And the Drow circle scattered as Jordan lunged at them like a snake, bolting away and regrouping to reassess the situation, leaving only three to back up their goddess. Jordan happily followed those running, lightning dribbling from his mouth then shooting out in a blinding blast, overtaking at least half those he was chasing.

            Tempest snarled, holding his sword ready as he turned to face Lolth. "You want me dead, Lolth?! Come at me!" When she didn't react, he grinned. "Or are you afraid?"

            "That is the last thing I am." She replied in a cold voice. "Soldiers, make sure none interfere. I shall take care of this vile male myself."

            "Steady!" Fox shouted, galloping up the lines to the center, the others in command pacing him. His father had deferred all authority to him. A majority of the gods were on the offensive, but Moradin, Kord, and Ehlonna had stayed behind, along with a majority of their fighters. The lines were set up carefully, archers on the guard towers, healers pacing back and forth, waiting. The dark wave was on the last hundred meters to the lines.

            "Lock your shields!" Moradin's voice boomed, and the front lines dropped into a defensive posture, tower shields digging into the ground, bracing for the impact. The very front line was almost completely made of dwarves, as well as the occasional orc or human, and all were muscular and in heavy armor, sworn to defend.

            Fox watched as the dark wave thundered at them, a variety of monsters and beings, all avowed to darkness and evil. When they were less then twenty feet away, he reared his horse and shouted "Now!" at the top of his lungs.

            A barrage of arrows soared from the defensive lines and sunk into the attacking units, striking down or wounding hundreds, which were trampled by those following. The second onslaught of arrows was released as the waves clashed, the attackers hitting the defenders full sprint. Swords flashed and sharp-edged shields were swung, and it was soon apparent that for every soldier of the light that fell, at least ten of the dark army went down. Healers cast mass-healing spells constantly, but the lines held.

            The dark army fell back and began regrouping, and the defensive line stepped down and tightened ranks as the defenders reassessed the situation, those in command regrouping.

            "We must have taken out twenty percent of the force right there." Kord remarked, crossing his arms. "But they're wearing us down. Two or three more hits and our defense will be too tired to really perform well. No offense, Moradin."

            "No, I agree." The dwarvin god replied, wiping blood off of his war hammer absently. "Any ideas?" He glanced at Fox. "As odd as it is reporting to a mortal…"

            "We change formation." Fox replied, crouching in the dust and drawing a diagram with a finger absently. The others also crouched. "We're a straight line right now. We change formation to a curve going away from the enemy." He wiped out the diagram and redrew it. "Bolstering the center and flanks."

            "Funneling them in. Not bad." Said Ehlonna, leaning her weight into her sword absently, the tip of which was planted in the dirt. "That won't solve the exhaustion problem though…"

            "Give the artillery the authorization to hit them while far away. We're going to let them hit us once more…"

            "Then?" Kord inquired.

            "False retreat. Funnel them in completely and hit them from both sides."

            "Hmn. Risky. Higher chance of losses." Moradin played with his beard absently.

            "But if it's done right, we'll sweep them entirely. Wipe out everything coming at us." Said James, nodding approvingly.

            "Let's do it then." The group split up and rearranged the lines, and they were barely done when the dark army hit again.

            Tempest bent backward as Lolth's corrupted blade flashed over him, balancing himself with one hand and defending with the other, then completing the flip and coming back to his feet, attacking as she did. The three remaining Drow loomed nearby, arms crossed and eyes flashing. This part of the battlefield was empty, the war had moved on to elsewhere, the light forces pressing forward, forcing the enemy to fall back, defend, and fall back again.

            He hadn't seen Heian since his rival had last disappeared, but he suspected that he was nearby. Not that it mattered at the moment, he was focused on the fight, trying to catch the black goddess off guard, which was nearly impossible. He knew it would be death to let that tainted blade so much as touch him, and because of that he was spending a majority of his time on defense, assessing and reassessing the goddess' fighting style. Like her followers, she was a cold, efficient fighter, not getting angry, spending no extra energy to complete her moves. There were few flaws in the style, even less that could be taken advantage of. Furthermore, he knew that just grazing her wouldn't work. He'd have to make the wound deep and mortal, a finishing blow in one hit.

            _'Ah, the trouble I get myself in to.'_ He thought to himself, going on defense again. _'But she deserves the pain. It's only what she dealt to me.'_

            "I see… why Heian… had so many problems killing you." Lolth hissed between moves, attacking harder and harder.

            "I know his style." Tempest replied, defending flawlessly, then attacking viciously. "He should have lost." He put his weight into it, knocking Lolth back, and took a ready position.

            Lolth snarled and charged, spitting out words in Undercommon. Tempest knew it was the start of a spell and dove out of the way, staying on the defensive and countering with what dispel-magic incantations he knew. Still, acidic searing bit at his bones, and he was forced farther on the defense as she came at him again, this time her three remaining followers attacking as well.

            "Enough!"

            Lolth was blown back and to the ground by a sudden blast of light, and the three Drow were also forced back. Corellon was suddenly standing beside Tempest, glowing intensely, fury written over his face.

            "I had no problem with my follower fighting you, Lolth." He snarled, stalking up to the dark Goddess, who was blinded and dazed. He yanked her to her feet and smacked her as hard as he could, making blood fly up. "But the fight is going to be fair." He dumped her back to the ground, and cast a regeneration spell. The pain that was locking up Tempest's muscles dissolved, and his exhaustion left him. Lolth slowly stood back up, rubbing her face even if the damage was already healed. "You are not going to perform magic spells of any sort. Nor are you going to call in others to help you." And with that he left, taking the three cringing Drow with him.

            "You called him in?" Lolth demanded, pointing in the direction Corellon left in.

            "No, he arrived of his own will." Tempest replied. "I'm not happy about it either, but I appreciate what he did."

            There was a long, silent pause, and then they attacked each other at the same time, blades flashing as they circled, moving so fast they blurred.

            "What happened to Denev shaking the mountain?" Falco shouted, leaning forward so the dragon had a better chance of hearing him. He was sitting on the back of the copper dragon he had befriended on his first quest with Fox.

            "As far as I know it's still part of the plan." The dragon replied over his shoulder, spiraling up toward where Bahamut hovered. "Do you know, boss?"

            "We're running behind." Bahamut rumbled, landing on the peak and crouching. "The light forces attacking are spent. They're regrouping down there." He pointed as the copper landed below him, Falco craning his neck to look up at him. "Only people still moving are my forces and the Blood Bayou, and the ceremony is still going on. We didn't even distract them."

            "Great." Falco moaned. "So what now?"

            "Not sure what we can do." The dragon god admitted. "We have to wait for Denev."

            "What's taking her so long?"

            "She's weak, Falco. Don't tell anyone else I said this, but titan or no, I think she's dying. She's got to gather her strength to do this, and I'm honestly not sure she has enough to do it." He sighed, shaking his head. "We're going to have to gather what we have left and see if we can directly interfere with the ceremony. Near as I can tell, with the power that's building up, we maybe have five minutes. Maybe."

            "Let's get the word out then."

            "Hold them back!" Moradin thundered, smashing his war hammer to the ground. Earthquake ripples spread out from him, knocking over a dozen enemies to the ground and making them easy targets for nearby allies.

            Fox dodged around Moradin, his unicorn dashing forward, goring an enemy as Fox swept down with his swords, messily decapitating three others. Beside him his father fought, using a glaive to do damage in a wide circle around him. He had dismounted at the start of the second wave, and now fought on foot, wiping out enemy soldiers before they could reach the tiring defensive line. Eventually the enemy fell back again, after hitting the line for over five minutes straight.

            "We didn't have time to go through with the plan." Kord remarked, sword propped on his shoulder.

            "We will as soon as we're hit the next time." Moradin said. "Just as well that we didn't, we did a lot of damage."

            "We lost a quarter of our defenders." Ehlonna said, appearing as those in command gathered again. "At least half of those collapsed because of stress and exhaustion. We may not be loosing a lot of people to death, but we've got a lot of wounded."

            "Why hasn't the ceremony been stopped yet?" James wanted to know, stepping over bodies, wings closing absently. In an attempt to do more damage during the fight, he had stepped up to his incarna form.

            Kord disappeared, then reappeared. "The forces on the offense are spent. They've taken more then half the mountain, but the only people still on the move are the Jack's forces."

            "How much time do we have left?" Fox asked, suddenly very worried.

            Thunder boomed, and lightning flashed up and down the mountain. The valley, which was somewhat warm, suddenly grew cold and still as a frozen wind blew down the mountain and spread, as if winter had exhaled.

            "I'd say none." Moradin said quietly. "We're too late."

            The dark forces, bolstered by the cold wind, hit the defensive lines once more. This time, the commands were issued, and the false retreat went into effect. Hungry for blood, the dark forces followed, and only too late did they realize what was happening. The forces of light surrounded and attacked, though they knew it was a useless gesture. The defending lines had stood, and won the fight, but the war was, apparently, lost.

            The cold wind blasted across the mountain, and the offensive gods hung their heads for a moment. They hadn't moved fast enough, hadn't fought hard enough. They had destroyed the greater part of the dark forces, over 60% by most estimates, but they hadn't stopped the ceremony. 

            Tempest felt the wind hit, and saw Lolth pause, looking toward the source. He took his chance and charged, leaving himself wide open in an attempt to land a fatal blow. Lolth reacted belatedly and wasn't able to block his blade. Dark blood sprayed, and Lolth fell to the ground, gasping, Tempest's sword right through her heart.

            "You made a very, very bad mistake when you struck against my family." Tempest snarled, yanking out the blade. "I hope you've learned something about the elves that you will remember for eternity." He slashed again, neatly cutting open her throat, and turned his back, going to where the light forces had corrected, looking tired and near panic.

            "Nicely done." Corellon remarked, looking up. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground, holding his head. "We've lost, Tempest. Mormo has returned."

            "What do you mean, we've lost?" Tempest demanded. "So she's returned. Every god is here, and we've got the greater force. Can't we hit her now and dispel her?"

            "It doesn't work that way." Heironeous replied, casting another mass healing spell, looking worn. "We'd need a fresh force… and fresh avatars. The consortium of light gods is spent, and our army is as well."

            "Too bad for you." Remarked a dark, snarling voice, and everyone looked up. A black knight stood there, arms crossed, scowling at the gathered light forces. "Evening, Heironeous." He added.

            "Hextor. What do you want?" Was the tight reply, Heironeous stepping forward, hand on the hilt of his sword.

            "Just to congratulate you on a wonderful attempt." Hextor cackled. "And to say goodbye, because all your army is going to die."

            "When did I say I was going to do that?" Asked a creaky, evil voice, and a crone walked up, leaning on a cane, squinting at Hextor as if reprimanding him.

            "We have a deal, Mormo." He snarled in reply.

            "And you were fool enough to believe I'd follow it." She snorted. He snarled and drew his sword, moving to attack, and was blown back several hundred meters. Even from that distance, the gathered light forces could tell that the impact had killed the avatar.

            "He may be against me, but he's still my brother." Heironeous snarled, drawing his sword.

            "Ah, ah." Mormo grinned. "He was fresh, ready to fight. You're exhausted. What makes you think you have a better chance?"

            "Maybe he doesn't, Mormo. But I do." Said a very low, angry voice. Standing not far away, still riding his black unicorn, was the Jack of Tears. His armor was soaked in blood, but rage still ran wild in his eyes, hands tightening into fists as he gazed at the titan.

            "You?" She threw back her head and cackled. "YOU? A mere mortal?"

            The Jack directed his unicorn so he stood between the light forces and Mormo, drawing his sword again. "For the love of your gods, run." He hissed over his shoulder, looking at Heironeous. "This is not a fight you can win!" And with that, he charged directly at Mormo.

            Halfway to her, the ground jumped and cracked, and the unicorn fell, screaming. The mountain rolled, the most devastating earthquake ever seen thumping the mountain, causing huge avalanches, caving in the trenches, burying people alive. The gods grabbed their followers and teleported out, desperate to keep their people alive, but were left with the afterimage of a power explosion, dark magic hitting dark magic.

            The offensive forces appeared beside the defensive forces, and the gods gathered, watching in stupefied horror as the entire mountain broke in two, sheering off. The noise was deafening. Adding to it was the black lightning that was exploding across the shattered mountain, agony and torment given form. A horrifying scream filled the air, echoing to the world, and the mountain fell still, silence falling at last.

            "What just happened?" An orc wanted to know, rubbing his chin and staring at the ruined peak.

            "I don't think anyone here knows." Said Pelor in a very, very tired voice.

            "Does anyone know what happened to the forces from the Bayou?" Fox asked, elbowing his way through the crowd, holding his side. He had taken an impact during the last fight, and it now hurt to breathe, but as near as he could tell the wound was far from mortal.

            "I don't think they got off the mountain." Heironeous finally said, and looked around. "Does anyone feel Mormo's presence?"

            "She's dead." Said Saint Cuthburt slowly. "Gone."

            There was another long silence, then Pelor clapped his hands together, getting everyone's attention. "Reestablish camp! Tend the wounded! Those still able to search gather at the front gate!" He shouted, and the tired, aching army moved out, limping back to camp.

            Fox sighed, standing near the front of the hospital tent, waiting for his group to gather. Most of his friends had had minor injuries or had yet to report in from the field. While the war was won, at least according to the gods, the losses were still being speculated on. What mattered, though, was that the greater majority of the light forces were alive. There were, however, a massive amount of injuries incurred, and every magic user that knew healing spells had been called to the hospital tent.

            Fara, who had just arrived and was looking around, saw Fox almost instantly. "Fox! Thank god you're all right!" Fara leapt up and almost tackled him to the ground, wrapping her arms tight around him and burying her face in his chest.

            "You're crushing my cracked ribs, dear." Fox grunted, but returned the hold. "Yes, I'm all right. Bruised and bandaged, but I'll live. Our healers are just about burned out, though…" He sighed, staring out over the battlefield. The valley and mountain were completely ripped apart, stained with blood, littered with bodies. Those able to were still patrolling the battlefield for survivors of either side. "What are the losses? No one I've talked to knows."

            "About twenty percent for us." Said Slippy, limping up. He was missing his handgun and looked exhausted, but was otherwise whole. "About ninety-five for them. The defensive line tore them apart, and their defenses were completely wiped out." He shook his head. "Mostly Denev's doing, when she gathered what was left of her strength and shook the mountain. The avalanches caused by that must have wiped out half their forces in one swoop."

            "Speaking of which, has anyone heard of Denev since then?" Peppy asked, walking up with Falco in tow. Falco looked bloodied and burned, but was grinning ear to ear to himself.

            "No, not that I've heard." Said Fara. "But most of the gods have been busy, trying to pull what's left of their forces together, get people healed."

            "Denev isn't a god." Fox shook his head, looking around as his group gathered together slowly. They were standing just outside the hospital tent in the camp, watching the river of people pass by. Injured people were still being brought in, and wizards that burned out were carried out to rest. Twenty percent may have died, but a lot more were injured, and it was taxing every healer available. "It seems that we're all here… where's Alan?"

            "Haven't seen him recently." Katt said, leaning into Falco, weak from magic use. "You don't suppose…?"

            "I don't suppose anything could kill him." Said Bill gently. "We'll just have to wait…"

            "Not long it seems." Tempest interrupted. "There he is, with Sashima close behind… who's he carrying?"

            "Oh, gods, that's the Jack!" Peppy blurted.

            Alan was striding toward the entrance of the hospital tent, cradling the body of his leader as if the Jack weighed nothing. Blood ran down his arms and made a trail behind him, but he didn't seem to notice, focused on getting his leader to a healer. Sashima strode ahead when they got closer to the hospital tent, tossing people out of the way forcefully.

            "Alan!" Fox called, meeting him. Alan stopped and gave Fox a blank look, swaying, standing long enough that Fox could take stock of the Jack.

            The Jack of Tears was still breathing, but he had no real right to be alive. His arms were clutched over his stomach, and near as Fox could tell, that was the only thing keeping his vitals in place. Behind him, he heard Falco gag quietly, and the others seemed similarly sickened.

            "He struck the finishing blow. He destroyed Mormo by himself." Said Alan, still swaying. "But the backlash…" Alan elbowed by, entering the tent. "Somebody help!" He shouted, voice pitched to a desperate screech. A few nearby Elven healers, sitting and resting, promptly surged to their feet the moment the moment they saw the Jack. Fox and the others followed as the Jack was taken over to a medical table and laid out on it. The Jack suddenly came to coherency, letting out a thin screech of pain and curling up on his side, shoulders jerking.

            "How is he still alive?" Peppy whispered. 

            "Sheer force of will." Bendel appeared beside them and made his way forward, helping the healers.

            "NO!"

            The healers were thrown back, some getting hit so strongly they went across and through the tent walls. The Jack sat up, screeching again, then collapsed, eyes wild with pain. Bendel, who had managed to stand his ground, tried to make the Jack relax, pushing the elf's shoulders down to the table. "Momus! Relax! You're killing yourself!" He shouted, obviously struggling to hold the Jack down. He glanced at Fox's group helplessly, and they gathered around, trying to help restrain their injured friend.

            "No. Don't bother…" The Jack gasped, shaking, curling up again. "Nothing can stop it now. Mormo made sure that if she was going to die, I would die with her, and healing magic will only slow it."

            "But…" Alan started.

            "Shut it, bard." A painful smile curled Momus' lips. "It's about damn time I got to die. I've been laughing in the face of it for ages, denying it the delight of taking me. Besides, I lost my soul a very long time ago." He tried to focus on the others, but it was clear he couldn't see well anymore. "The Baron Mirth is still alive. Find him. Right now."

            That order rumbled through the entire tent, and a few messengers took off instantly, realizing that while the Jack was dying, he was more still then willing to kill those who angered him. There was a long silence during which the healers slowly and cautiously returned to the table, staring at the Jack, who just scowled at them.

            "At least let us try to stop the pain…" One started.

            "No point." The Jack snapped. "You want to be useful, make a path so that Mirth can get here. I don't have much time. I've lost too much blood."

            "You care to be technical, you shouldn't have any time." Bendel said, amused. "You shouldn't have any blood left. At all."

            He looked down at himself, and grinned in his usual twisted way. "I've never claimed to be normal, have I?"

            The next ten minutes were hell for all concerned. The Jack very rapidly weakened, but he still felt inclined to throw the healers across the tent when they attempted to perform magic on him. His refusal of all healing magic pretty much meant that all waiting were made helpless, but when Peppy tried to be sympathetic, he joined the healers in being thrown through the nearest tent wall. The Jack apologized, and everyone shut up after that.

            The Baron eventually arrived, towering over those around him as he elbowed through the noisy hospital crowd. "I'm sorry it took me so long, I was helping search for survivors." He said briskly, then came to an abrupt halt when he saw how hurt and weak the Jack was. "Oh, my Lord, what has been done to you…?"

            "Mormo." The Jack grimaced. "And you could have hurried…"

            "I did." The Baron looked at the pack of cringing healers. "Have you been refusing healing? Why?"

            "Because I'm dying, and nothing can stop it." The Jack spat out blood. Sashima, who had perched on the edge of the table, took his hand automatically. He looked at her in surprise, but accepted the comfort. "I asked for you because when word reaches my Bayou of my death, chaos will ensue. Lord Quick will try to take over, Queen Ran will defect, the Demoiselle will go reclusive, and you'll be forced to start military rule."

            "That sounds about right." The Baron agreed, carefully not showing any emotion, but his hands were curled into fists, nails pressing hard enough he was drawing blood.

            "… Unless I declare a successor, and make sure there are plenty of viable and believable witnesses." The Jack started choking, rolling on his side. Alan thumped him on the back, and the Jack spat out more blood. Fara winced and hid her face in Fox's shoulder, who automatically wrapped his arms around her. After several moments of heaving gasps, he continued. "That's why I had you brought here."

            "My Lord, I…"

            "Silence. I'm not passing Foolscap to you, Baron. You're one of the closest things I've had to a best friend, but we both know our motives are different… you're here as a witness." There was a long pause. The Jack's breathing had become shallow, and his eyes were starting to close. After a moment, he jerked himself back awake. "I've known for a long time who I wanted to succeed me."

            "None of the current Bayou leaders, I take it." Said the Baron carefully, looking both confused and angry.

            "No." There was another pause, then the Jack lifted a hand and wiped at the bloody tears falling from his eyes. "I can't turn, Alan, so come here where I can see you." Once Alan had moved, he focused on the bard. "In a very short time I will depart this miserable rock that astronomers call a planet, and don't you dare cry about it." He said in a slightly severe voice. "Because you're taking over the Bayou."

            "WHAT?!" Everyone standing nearby asked. The Baron looked completely dismayed.

            "Sir, I, I can't do that." Alan gaped down at his dying leader.

            "You can. You will. It took you only a week in the Bayou to become more powerful then I have ever been. But you don't know how to hate. Your heart is full of love and music and mercy." The Jack started to laugh, then went into a spasm of coughing. "I… I did the Bayou… a great wrong. Maybe you can make it right." He finally wheezed out, letting his wand appear in his hand and holding it out to Alan. "I pass Foolscap to you."

            Alan numbly took the wand, staring at it, then looking at his leader. "Are you sure?"

            "I've been sure since a week after I met you, you insane musician." He laughed weakly, closing his eyes. "Corellon?"

            "I'm here." The god stepped forward. Alan backed off so he could have the main spot in front of the dying Jack.

            "Where am I going to go?" He coughed, whole body jerking. "I'm an Elf. I'm supposed to go to the Glades… but that was a long time ago…"

            "You're still an Elf, Etharan."

            "I fell to corruption. I killed without mercy."

            "You've redeemed yourself. Your family is waiting for you. Be at peace."

            A sad, but true, smile passed over the Jack's face as his eyes fully closed. "Then from the Glades I came, and to them, I return…" He mumbled to himself, and with a final pained convolution, went limp.

            Alan was silent for a moment, then hung his head and began to whimper, still holding Foolscap limply in one hand. Sashima slowly let the Jack's hand go and slid off the table, hugging Alan, hiding her tears in his tunic. Everyone standing nearby was silent, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

            "Well, since you're now the fearless leader, what do we do now?" Mirth asked Alan sarcastically, anger still coloring his voice. He didn't understand what had possessed his dying leader to declare a bard as his successor, and furthermore didn't believe Alan could possibly be more powerful then the Jack had been.

            "We bury him." Was the heavy reply. "Out on the field near the mountain, so he's close to his place of victory." Alan gave Sashima one last squeeze, then picked the Jack's body up effortlessly. "Then we have a wake."

            "Naturally, you don't want a silent, dreary funeral."

            Alan gave Mirth an amused look. "No, and neither would the Jack."

            The next twenty-four hours were a massive wind-down for the entire army. Way-gates were reestablished, and soldiers started to return home as they were able, though the majority of the forces stayed, staying near their god and helping those injured to recover. Eventually, though, camp was broke, and the avatars dissolved, the tired gods returning to heavens until they were needed again.

            "Heading home now, I suppose?" Tempest asked Fox, watching the group pack up.

            "Heading for my grandfather's." Was the simple reply. "And you should, too."

            "What?"

            Fox turned to look at him. "My father said to tell you that my grandfather Aust wishes to speak to you, and to me as well. That's fine with me, I'd like to relax, and his city is one of my favorite places to do so."

            Tempest blinked. "The whole group going?"

            "That's the current plan, except for Alan and Sashima."

            "Why would your grandfather want to speak to me?"

            "To be honest… I have no idea. But given my father's attitude, I think Corellon has something to do with it." He paused. "I know it's none of my business, but I know that you and Corellon were having some arguments. Were they resolved?"

            "I think so."

            "Good."

            "Tempest!" A small form flew through the air and hit Tempest at chest level.

            "Hi, Yipsnarl." Tempest replied, grinning in spite of himself.

            "Can I come with you?"

            He looked at Fox, who shrugged, wincing as his ribs ached. At least, he thought tiredly, let these wounds heal before my child is born. "I don't personally have any problems with kobolds. As for my grandfather, this is the same man who took in Jordan and a redeemed Wolf O'Donnel. I doubt Yipsnarl will bother him."

            Tempest laughed.

            "Nothing has changed here, I see." Falco remarked, looking around.

            "Not many soldiers were pulled from this city. Corellon opted to use it as a reserve." Fox replied, dismounting, thankful to be back in a peaceful forest, a very long ways away from the battlefield.

            "About time you visited us again, Ivellios." Tharivol laughed, exchanging a quick hug and back slap with Fox. "I heard you're just back from that nasty mess with Mormo."

            "Yes indeed. How are things here?"

            "Same as usual. Larethian have anything interesting to say?"

            "Well, not about you in particular…"

            "Aw…" Tharivol made a face, then laughed and turned to Tempest. "Well, you're new. I'm Tharivol Holimion. And you are?"

            "Himo Galanodel."

            Both of Tharivol's eyebrows shot up. "You're a Galanodel? No fooling?"

            "Yes indeed, but I prefer to be called Tempest."

            "All right, then, I won't argue."

            "Wise of you, Tharivol." Said Aust, striding up, grinning. "You don't visit often enough, grandson."

            "I enjoy my privacy." Fox replied, grinning back.

            "Perhaps too much, as your father remarked to me I should expect to see grandchildren sometime soon." He laughed when Fox ducked his head and blushed. "Oh, relax." He turned to the entire group. "Well, you're welcome here as usual. Glad to have you here actually, even if we were on standby for a while, we need the break from the monotony."

            "Visit my tavern, I guarantee it'll break the monotony." Falco offered.

            "Perhaps I will sometime in the future." Was the easy reply. "Well, I hope no one minds if I borrow Tempest and Fox for a short time."

            "Just return him in one piece." Fara replied.

            "I will."

            "So what is this all about?" Tempest asked, leaning on the railing and staring out across the Elven village, dull pain going through him. This place was a lot like his home was, before it was destroyed.

            "Basically, Corellon had a word with my son, who stopped by and had a word with me. Almost gave me a heart attack of course, but it was good to see him." He smiled sadly. "What it boils down to is the fact that you, Tempest, are the last living Giannodel. Correct?"

            "… Correct."

            "I'm not meaning to cause you any pain. But it's got to be hard, having no living family, so… I was wondering if you'd like to join the Siannodels."

            "WHAT?" Fox and Tempest said at the same time.

            "You heard me. I adopt you on as another grandson, allowing you a chance to rebuild your name and giving you allies in my family." Aust crossed his arms and gazed at both, looking smug. "You keep your name of course. But everyone needs a family of some sort."

            "You're asking to adopt me… now wait a minute…"

            "Yes, that would make you and Fox adopted brothers. I'm sure you could work it out."

            Tempest was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the city, then slowly smiled. "I think I'd like that. I mean, if you agree with it, Fox."

            "I don't see why I shouldn't." Fox finally said, smiling a bit. "I've never had a brother. Might be nice to have one, even if it's just adoption."

            "I'm not sure what my parents would say, though…"

            "Your parents approve one hundred percent. Or so said my son." Aust replied.

            After another long moment, Tempest grinned. "All right then. I suppose you have another grandson then."

            "I'm glad. I'm very glad."


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

            _'Fatherhood suits Fox.' Peppy thought with a smile as he climbed the stairs. Fox was waiting for him at the top landing, holding his three-month-daughter, swaying a bit absently. "So, how goes solitude?"_

            "WHAT solitude?" Fox wanted to know. "Fara's parents are here almost weekly because they're so delighted to have grandchildren, everyone else drops in erratically, and Jordan is so sick of the babies crying he actually is trying to sing them to sleep at night, which only makes it worse…" He huffed.

            Peppy looked at Fox for a long moment. He did look tired, but there was a glitter in his eyes that belied it. "You're having fun, aren't you?"

            "Yes." Fox grinned, leading Peppy through the tree house to the den. Fara was already there, relaxed in a chair, playing with her son. Everyone had been stunned when Fara had had twins, except Alan--he had known all along.

            "Afternoon, Peppy." Fara said, looking up. "What brings you here?"

            "Nothing, really. Just erratically dropping in." He grinned at Fox, who smiled and shrugged. "So, really, how are things here?"

            "Wonderful. Peaceful." Fox said, sitting down, snuggling his daughter. "So, anything interesting on the grapevine?"

            "Nothing you haven't already heard. Katt finally collared Falco into marriage…"

            "That took long enough." Fara remarked.

            "We all think that, I assure you. Bill's still traveling, I don't think he's doing so as a gladiator though." Peppy frowned to himself thoughtfully. "How about with Tempest? Heard anything recently?"

            "Actually… No. Though I did hear him mutter something about 'going home' last I saw him." Fox paused. "It's kind of odd still that my grandfather has adopted him, but I don't mind at all. Anything new from the Bayou?"

            "Complete chaos, from what I've heard. The treaty still holds, but according to traders, the Carnival was completely ripped down and rebuilt. Not only that, supposedly Alan is starting to bring in powerful clerics, trying to purge some of the poison out of the land so it's more productive. And this last thing I know for certain. He kicked out Lord Quick."

            "You're kidding."

            "No, he's not." Alan leaned on the doorframe, grinning. His clothes had changed, he was dressed much like the Jack had once, apparently it was part of the position. He had left off the Jester's cap, though, it seemed that he was satisfied with his own bright crest of feathers. "Hello, everyone. Your house was nice enough to let me in, Fox."

            Fox grinned. "Alan! Sit down! When'd you get here?"

            "About ten minutes ago. I left the Baron and the Demoiselle in charge." Alan strolled in and leapt over a chair, landing neatly and crossing his legs at the knee absently. True happiness and power radiated from him. "So, since Peppy started explaining, I'll finish. Evil exists, it must to balance the light, but it needn't be so completely vile. The old carnival was falling apart, so I replaced it. Lord Quick apparently threw a complete fit, saying it had been standing for centuries, and I just told him that was why it had to come down." He polished his nails on his shirt and looked at them absently, mind wandering. "Apparently the fact that I was going to be enacting many large changes worked into his plague-addled brain, and he tried to rebel. The fight lasted about an hour. Most of the fiends were wiped out, and he was chased off." An evil grin spread across his face. "But don't worry, he won't be doing any harm, I promise you that."

            "Good to hear, I guess… Um, do we want to know what you did to him?" Fara finally said, blinking.

            He continued studying his nails. "I turned him mortal."

            Fox grinned. "Good choice. Glad you didn't kill him."

            "I'm not the Jack of Tears, old friend." He grinned at Fox, but this time it was his normal one, full of light and energy. "Now, can I hold your children or what?"

            "I never thought I'd return here." Tempest remarked, craning his neck up. The trees were all still standing, taller then he remembered, and the skeletal remains of the once-grand Elven city clung to the branches, broken rope bridges swinging in the wind. But in his mind and heart, he still saw the city as it once had been, and it sent a ripple of pain through him.

            "Given what has happened here, I don't think anyone could blame you." Aust sighed, looking up at the ruins. "I still can't believe this happened. I used to visit here, every now and then. Your family was some of my finest allies…"

            "The fact that it happened still fills we with rage." Tempest finally admitted. "But it's done, and there is nothing I can do to undo it."

            "Would you if you could?" Aust lifted an eyebrow.

            Tempest opened his mouth, then looked thoughtful. "I would give anything to have my family back, to hold my wife again… but I would not have made some very good friends if this hadn't happened." He sighed. "I don't know, Aust. I don't know."

            "No one expects you to." Remarked a voice above them. They both looked up, and saw Corellon sitting on one of the low branches, swinging a foot absently. "The events that have passed cannot be undone. But if they are remembered, we can prevent them from happening again."

            "Come here often, my lord?" Aust finally asked, stunned.

            "Sometimes. It's a good place to think." Corellon leapt down. "And to muse on the past. You agree, apparently."

            "Indeed." Tempest nodded. "I suppose that I needed closure. Ending of one life, starting of another."

            "A good philosophy, that." The avatar easily agreed, and turned to Aust. "Being you are so tolerant, would you be willing to take in a trio of Drow I kidnapped from Lolth during the fight?"

            "I don't see why not, if they've truly given up their past belief." Aust replied easily.

            "Good then." He hesitated, then looked back to Tempest. "I have a message for you. Your family sends their regrets that they are no longer with you, and asks to be remembered, but has ordered you to mourn no longer."

            "Ordered me?" Tempest blinked.

            "Yes indeed. Apparently they feel they've been mourned enough. They'd like you to move on."

            Tempest sighed, staring up at the ruined city. "I will. I'm going to rebuild a family, collect some allies, and build this city anew."

            "Good plan, my friend, very good plan." Aust smiled.

            Wind washed over them, and when they looked back at Corellon, he was already gone, happy his follower had healed. After all, everyone needed closure.

            Heian sighed, leaning on the table and watching the carnival. Why he had come back here, he wasn't sure, but he actually felt sort of safe here. No one here had a reason to hurt him, and none of his enemies dared pursue him.

            Speaking of enemies, he had to wonder what had come of Himo. He knew that Himo had won the fight against Lolth, but when Mormo had appeared, he had thought it prudent to leave, and leave quickly. He assumed that his old rival had probably continued traveling with the group he was in, which meant east, over the mountains.

            Feeling eyes bore into him, he looked up, and saw Sashima, the new bayou leader's lover, staring at him. He wove a finger idly, she just looked at him, then turned away and slipped into the crowd. It didn't bother him, stranger things happened every five minutes in the Bayou, so he continued to sip his beer and stare off into space. It wasn't until the area around him started getting quiet that he realized something was going on. Looking up, he saw the crowd parting, now silent and curious, and a regal figure strolled through the path cleared, right toward him. Lord Alan Mangrove, nicknamed the Jack of Mercy. He nodded and lifted his mug. "M'lord the Jack. What can I do for you?"

            "For starters, elf, I am not your lord." Alan leaned on the table and looked at him, and Heian startled, realizing that this new Jack wasn't smiling at all. In fact, anger rolled behind his eyes, burned off him.

            "Is something wrong?"

            "Oh yes, elf, something is very wrong. I know everything and everyone in my Bayou. You're not one of my people, but I recognize you." He narrowed his eyes. "I saw you fighting Tempest before Mormo rose. And I strongly suspect that you are the one that nearly killed him."

            "You know him?"

            "He's my friend." Alan said in a very quiet, deadly voice. "And those that hurt my friends are my enemies."

            "Hold on, now." Heian stood and held up his hands in treaty. "I haven't done anything to you."

            "You didn't have to."

            Power exploded as Alan tossed the table aside as if it weighed nothing, lunging forward and grabbing Heian by the throat, easily taking him to the ground. Heian gagged, effectively pinned. "If you kill me, you'll put your new title to shame." He remarked, straining to breathe.

            "I'm not going to kill you." He replied, flicking his wrist in the air. Foolscap appeared in his hand, and he twirled the wand through his fingers. "I'm going to make sure that everyone who meets you knows you're trouble. So tell me, do you still ally with Lolth?"

            "She wants me dead."

            "She'll want you more then that now." Was the smug reply, and Alan pressed the wand to Heian's chest. Pain gripped him, and suddenly the torches lighting the area sent stabs of pain through eyes so sensitive a candle would burn them. He screeched and curled up on his side when Alan released him, standing over him and grinning to himself. "Get used to it. You see in heat vision now."

            Heian trembled as he looked at his hand, looking at what he knew was black skin and fur. A curse, perhaps, or a powerful polymorph spell, it didn't matter. He was crippled, blinded by starlight.

            "Now get out. And never come back. Be sure you tell people what happens to my friends." Alan turned on heel and walked back through the path still parted in the crowd, which suddenly surged to life, applauding and supporting their new leader, leaving the former elf to moan, curled up on the wooden walkway, wondering how soon he would be found and killed.


End file.
